


Beware, Beware

by gayshitiguess



Series: From the Bell Jar [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, But kind of, F/F, F/M, I promise it'll be cool, I'm not here for that bi erasure, M/M, Molly branded gay behavior, Multi, Other, Tarot Cards, and fluff, caleb branded depression and self loathing, don't think I won't give Molly a girlfriend just because i love him and caleb, ghost buster au, kind of??, listen I just really like tarot, listen just go with it, molly and beau are bad at flirting, no, not really - Freeform, nott branded self hatred, some solid mlm wlw solidarity, tarot reading, that's right molly's bout to be the biest bitch in here, there will be angst, they try to help each other, what do you can solidarity that doesn't work???, yasha and caleb are bad at taking compliments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 41,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayshitiguess/pseuds/gayshitiguess
Summary: The Fool, The Devil, and Death. Those three cards in that order. That was the only thing that Mollymauk could seem to draw from his withered, overused deck.When strange things start happening in Molly's apartment, who's he going to call? Gustav, who recommends him to a little shop containing a little magic. It's a bitch of a living in LA heat with an angry spirit on your back, but if Molly can keep his feelings under check and let his exorcist do his job, everything should be back to normal soon.Well, as normal as things get for a guy named Mollymauk.





	1. Modern Literature

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my response to the whole death thing. Let me say outright here and now, first chapter: MOLLY WILL NOT DIE IN THIS STORY. Molly won't die in any of my stories. Molly will never die in my writing if I have a say in it. That ain't my shit. I love the analysis and everything on his death and there are plenty of writings that are lovely in which he does die, but not here. These AUs are how I'm keeping my head. 
> 
> In other news, I fucking adore Caduceus. He'll be showing up big time in this here thing. 
> 
> So yeah, context, I came up with this when I was pondering the idea of a modern AU, but like with magic. Give me that urban fantasy. Good shit. 
> 
> I'm hoping to post every Tuesday, but knowing myself, that'll probably fall apart as soon as it starts. I'll try, though.  
> Anyway, enough of me rambling. Please enjoy: this shit.
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess

The Fool, The Devil, and Death. Those three cards in that order. That was the only thing that Mollymauk could seem to draw from his withered, overused deck. He drew a spread every morning, just a general past, present, and future while meditating on that day. It was a ritual for him, among his many. He did it every morning as soon as he woke up, before a shower or coffee or his meds. It was something essential to him. If he forgot or couldn’t do it, he felt wrong all day long. 

  
  


It was a Monday when he drew them first. The Fool in the past, the Devil in the present, and Death in the future. Not necessarily an alarming set. Molly actually drew the Fool a lot. Mostly, the Fool represented new beginnings. It showed up in his past at least once a week. He smiled every time it showed itself to him. The Devil was equally as common for him. The temptation was something that he not so much struggled with, more so leaned into. Mollymauk did not deny himself the pleasures of life, no matter what those pleasures may be. He did go easy on the days the Devil showed up in his reading. Death wasn’t something he saw very often in his future, more often in his past and present. Death didn’t deserve the bad rep it got from the general public. It was change. Just change. Death was transformation, and he knew that better than most people. 

  
  


He took care to listen to the cards when he drew them that day. He relished his new beginning, laid off the temptations he tended to indulge in. He kept his eyes open for chances to change. 

  
  


And then, on Tuesday, he drew the same cards in the same order. 

  
  


Weird. 

  
  


He shrugged it off and went about his day. 

  
  


On Wednesday, the same cards. The same order. 

  
  


He was starting to get a bit freaked out.

 

Mollymauk wasn’t the type of person who worried about things. It wasn’t his usual vibe, and he had to admit, it wasn’t a good look on him. Molly tried his very best to be as cool and calm as he could be. Worrying wasn't something he was interested in wasting his time doing. He knew his time was limited and he didn’t want to spend it with his brow creased and his stomach in knots. 

  
  


He listened to his cards, though. He listened to them closely. 

  
  


Molly pulled from a different deck, but again, the Fool, the Devil, Death. He had Yasha give him a reading, and again, the Fool, the Devil, Death. When gave Yasha a reading of her own, though, she pulled Strength, the Empress, and the High Priestess. He separated the major and minor archanas and still drew the same cards. He went through every single one of his many, many decks and returned back to his tried and true purple one, just to draw the same cards every single time.  

  
  


Ominus didn’t even begin to cover it. 

  
  


Mollymauk approached the little bookstore on the corner of the street with suspicion and anxiety. He was standing outside of this run-down brick building with a swarm of bees in his chest. It wasn't a normal or welcome sensation. He shook his head and booted his kickstand into place. Then, he thought that maybe he was being ridiculous. A ghost was most likely the last thing that it was. He swept his kickstand back up. Then, he thought about the last time that frying pans and kitchen knives had gone off throwing themselves. He moved his kickstand down again. 

  
  


Worrying really, really wasn’t his style. 

  
  


Gustav had recommended the place. That had to mean that it was safe. Gustav had told him that this was the place to see if he had a ghost problem, which, though Molly loathed to admit it, was most likely the case. Gustav was someone that Molly trusted explicitly. 

  
  


Molly had tried to ignore the whole issue when it was just his tarot cards repeating themselves. He brushed it aside when his incense disappeared from his room. He tried to ignore it when their stove turned on in an empty kitchen. He tried to ignore it when books and plates started throwing themselves on the ground. However, when a kitchen knife tried to implant itself into Molly’s chest, he decided it was time to send for help. 

  
  


Mollymauk had hated leaving the circus, and, moreover, leaving Gustav. The circus was a dying industry, though. Fletching's Circus was the best of the best, but its heyday was in the fifties. By now, they were just stealing songs from "The Greatest Showman" and hoping that nobody noticed that Gustav didn't have the range to even begin to claim he was Hugh Jackman. Molly's sword tricks and tarot readings were good, he was good. He was at home in that circus. It fell apart in LA. 

  
  


Gustav had been involved in some sort of extortion at some point during the circuses stint in the US. Gustav had been carted off one night after the show and thrown into an LA jail. With the leader of their group missing, everything had fallen to pieces. Bo tried his best to make sure everybody was okay. He split the rest of the earnings between everybody. Molly got a shit basement apartment in the Valley. Yasha stayed with him most of the time, as she had promised. He started doing tarot readings. He got disability checks for his head and the lung problems and the limp. He made a living for himself. 

  
  


He still missed the circus. The lights. The applause. Gustav. 

  
  


Gustav had all but nursed Mollymauk back to health. Molly had stumbled his way out of the coma ward and rehab at Lower Manhattan Hospital with no plans for what to do and no money to do it with. That’s how Gustav had found him. Depressed, still injured, and in need of help. Molly hadn’t been exactly sure what he had to offer to a traveling circus. Gustav found it in him, though. Gustav found the things worth bringing out and gently coaxed them into the spotlight. 

  
  


He helped Molly feel safe, loved, and happy. Molly grew out his hair. Molly got tattoos. Molly made his body his own, and Gustav gave that opportunity to him. Mollymauk and so many others owed him so much. 

  
  


Gustav got a few phone calls a week. He was still awaiting trial, and Molly had already set aside money to pay his bail. Molly didn’t know much, but he knew that the American Justice System was wack as fuck. Gustav reserved a call for Molly. When Thursday rolled around and he was still pulling the same cards and he and Yasha had fled their apartment for fear of being skewered, Molly dumped everything during the five minutes Gustav was allowed. 

  
  


Gustav had listened to Molly recount the events of his new apartment quietly and closely. He hummed a few times in the right places, and when Molly was finished, he spoke quickly and with enough urgency to set Molly's teeth on edge. 

  
  


"Listen very carefully, Mollymauk." He had said. Full name, no Molly, no familiarity. That meant to pay attention. "You need to speak to Caleb Widogast at Modern Literature. It's a shop on South Spring Street. He'll help for the right price. When he asks for a recommendation, tell him you have one from Gustav Fletching." 

  
  


Modern Literature was a tiny shop that looked a bit like a shoebox stood on its side, squished in between a payday loan place and a yoga studio. There was a hanging wooden sign outside that said the store had "rare and limited edition books." Molly took off his helmet and shook out his hair. The bees were still buzzing around in his stomach. This was the right place, though. Gustav only gave the best advice. 

  
  


Molly stood quickly from his bike and opened the rickety, brown door to the shop before he could think more about it. 

  
  


The door opened with a tiny bell chime that set off a distant memory that Molly couldn’t trace. That happened sometimes. Sometimes the smallest things would give him a feeling too strong to be nostalgia but not clear enough to be familiarity. The smell of fresh strawberries not picked yet. The feeling of his hands dug into the cool dirt. The mixing tastes of dark chocolate and cola. And, apparently, the sound of the bell on the door of Modern Literature. 

  
  


Mollymauk was bashed with the smells of old paper, decaying ink, and some herb he couldn’t place, and that was weird, because he was familiar with lots of different kinds of herbs. It filled him up with the warm, fuzzy feeling that he got when he smoked. It wasn’t unwelcome, considering how on edge he had been. The room was small, he might have been able to touch both walls if he stretched his arms out. But he couldn’t do that, because there were so many books. They were stacked on shelves, in piles, in bins, there was even an old metal bathtub that they were stacked up in. Molly chuckled a bit under his breath and flipped open a copy of “La Muerte De Arthur.” 

  
  


“Forgive me, I thought you were a ghost.” A soft voice called from behind a stack of books. Molly jumped at the sudden sound and clutched his necklace. Arthur tumbled to the ground and landed with a clunk. Molly cursed loudly. 

  
  


From out behind a large stack of leather-bound tomes came a ragged, tired looking man that Molly took his time examining. He was tall, Molly thought, maybe taller than himself, but he was bent over and curving into his own chest. He was wearing a grey-blue button-up shirt under a sweater under another sweater and Molly wondered if he was cold or if he was just making a statement. His slacks were brown and patched on the knee with a strip orange plaid fabric. His shoes were nice but worn so much that Molly was positive that the soles had been glued back together. His socks were mismatched. He had a large pair of circular spectacles perched on top of his head like sunglasses. His eyes were impossibly blue. 

  
  


Molly wasn’t one to be caught off guard by a pretty face, and he recovered quickly. 

  
  


“Oh? Am I just that phantasmal?” He made his voice sound like chocolate. The man didn’t meet his eye. He took to staring at Molly’s earrings.

  
  


“Ah-no, no, it's just been some time since anyone’s been here.” His voice was thick with an accent that Molly couldn’t place. It wasn’t from anywhere he’d been with the circus. Molly liked it though, it was shy and sweet sounding. 

  
  


“Well,” Molly said, “No ghost, just me. I’m Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends.” He plastered a gigantic smile on his face and extended his hand to the man. 

  
  


“I am Caleb Widogast.” He replied, grasping Molly’s hand firmly and quickly before he retreated from the contact. “I own this shop. Can I help you find anything?” His blue eyes still evaded Molly’s. They focused in on his freshly dyed purple hair and the jewelry that was braided into it, down past his angular face and to his mostly exposed torso, save for the crop top he'd slung on before coming. Almost all of Molly's tattoos were on display, and Caleb's eyes traced every line. Molly let him look. 

  
  


“Well, I’m not much of a reader, so I was wondering if I could inquire about your other specialty.” Caleb quirked a brow.

  
  


“Do you have a recommendation?” Caleb asked. 

  
  


“Gustav Fletching. I’ve got a ghost or a demon or something, and he said you could help.” Caleb nodded and pulled his glasses from his head and onto his face. 

  
  


“Well, which is it?” Caleb asked, moving towards the way he came.

  
  


“Sorry?” Molly replied. He leaned forward, putting his weight on one foot. He was hesitant to follow. 

  
  


“Is it a ghost or a demon?” Caleb asked over his shoulder. 

  
  


“Well, that’s not really my specialty. I’m not really into spirits and shit.” Molly laughed nervously. He broke his standstill once Caleb disappeared again. He couldn’t decide if he was curious or desperate. 

  
  


“That’s not true, is it?” Caleb asked. He led Molly back behind the counter and pulled a ring of keys from his belt. He opened a back door and ushered Molly in. A whole new type of uneasy swept over his body. 

  
  


"That's quite an accusation, Mr. Widogast." He shot back. Molly wasn't very charismatic despite his best efforts, so when he tried to sound cheeky, he ended up sounding defensive. 

  
  


"No, an observation." Caleb corrected. He didn't sound annoyed, exactly, but he didn't sound thrilled that Molly was there. His voice was almost completely flat with just a quirk to the negative side of the spectrum. 

  
  


Molly had this fantastic ability to make people either love him or hate him upon first meeting, sometimes first glance. If all of his bright colors didn't throw people off, his big and sometimes foul mouth often did. 

  
  


Caleb's store might have been narrow, but it was much deeper than Molly expected. They kept winding through the store, through more and more tightly packed hallways lined with bookshelves that barely left room for the width of Molly's shoulders. Yasha would never fit in here in a million years. Molly distracted himself from his claustrophobia with the mental image of having to butter Yasha's shoulders out from between the books. 

  
  


The ever narrower passageway finally broke out into a room. Caleb unlocked one last door with a long skeleton key on his ring and led Molly through. Molly thought that maybe Caleb had stuffed a whole house into his tiny shop. The room was much too big for the space that Caleb had. It boggled Molly's mind. 

  
  


The room was a dome that stretched far above their heads. A dark, grey metal plated the walls and covered the floors. It must have been slick to walk on, to begin with, but the metal had been worn down like Caleb's shoes, most likely by Caleb's shoes. Molly's sneakers squeaked against the ground, announcing his presence. Caleb didn't make a sound as he crept along his way. There was such a large mess in the high metal walls that Molly wondered how anybody could find their way through it. 

  
  


Molly had been in circus tents and auditoriums before, he'd walked through the largest cities in the United States. He'd seen Manhattan from the top of the Rockefeller building and he'd done it all in two years. In those years, though, he had never seen so many beautiful things at once. This room was covered in books just like the rest of the store, but these looked even more ancient than the limited edition and rare copies that Caleb had up front. Their spines were cracked leather and their paper looked thin and fragile enough to break with a single touch. There was a tome open on one of the many desks cluttering the large center of the room that was written in some form of glyph that Molly couldn't begin to understand. It reminded him of the first time that Yasha had put a book in front of him. The letter and words didn't mean anything to him yet and he couldn't piece together what they meant. They made his head hurt and it frustrated him to the point of tears. Yasha had insisted upon teaching him to read, but that experience of complete frustration had warded him off from being a book lover. 

  
  


Caleb walked to a wooden desk on the far wall of the domed room and started looking through the books and notepads covering its surface for something. He spoke without looking over his shoulder. 

  
  


"Put your tarot cards and any real crystals on the desk next to you." 

  
  


"Why?" Molly asked. He rubbed the garnet necklace around his neck. 

  
  


"You will see." Caleb moved a few books to the floor and kept looking. 

  
  


Molly sighed and took his tarot cards out of the pocket of the leather jacket tied around his waist. He unclasped his necklace and took off all of the rings on his fingers. He wasn't sure which of his stones were real or not, but he figured he'd be safe. He set them all down in a small pile on the desk. Caleb was still looking through the contents of his desk. 

  
  


Molly took an interest in the large, oak shelves that lined Caleb's metal walls. They were covered in vials, boxes, and bags labeled things that Molly couldn't quite wrap his mind around. There was a thin, cylindrical vial full of a clear liquid with a tag tied to it that read "Tears of the Unrequited" in neat cursive. Another bottle contained a swirling black smoke and read "Assorted Shrieks and Screams" with a yellow sticky note under the label that informed him that they were fresh. Caleb had a handful of black cat whiskers tied together with a hair band, a leather bag full of rotten teeth, a box containing graveyard dirt, and a mason jar with wolf fangs. Perhaps his favorite, a pile of plastic baggies with locks of hair of every color that read "Hair of a Fair Maiden." 

  
  


Caleb said something in a language Molly didn't understand but sounded distinctly like a curse. 

  
  


"Nott!" Caleb yelled, glancing around the room. "Where's the notebook?" Molly scrunched up his brow and looked around. There was nobody in sight and he was not named not. Before he could ask what Caleb meant, he cursed again. “He’s safe, where is it?” 

There was a scuffling from somewhere behind him, and Molly whipped around. There was nobody there. He turned around again in time to see a scrap of grey clothing disappear into a shadow on the far end of the room and a black leather notebook in Caleb’s hand. 

  
  


“So, Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb said, writing furiously into the notebook. Molly kept his eye on the shadow that hid whatever had magically retrieved Caleb’s journal. “Why do you believe you have a ghost or a demon or whatever?” 

  
  


“I, um-” Molly wasn’t usually lost for words, but there were sounds all around him now. Every time he thought he’d seen whatever it was, it was gone when he looked back, a trick of his periphery. “Something’s been messing with my apartment, sorry, what’s that?” He gestured around him generally in the hopes that Caleb understood. 

  
  


“That’s Nott,” Caleb said as he continued writing.

 

“Not what?” Molly asked. He was getting frustrated and scared. He was planning his fastest way out of the building.

 

“How has it been messing?” Caleb said. Molly took a moment to gather what he meant with the strange wording.

 

“It's uh- well, I mean, it kind of started with my tarot cards...” the noises were getting closer. Something was moving in on him. He was jumping out of his own skin. “I’m really sorry, but what the fuck is happening?” He finally spat out. Caleb rolled his eyes and kept writing.

 

“Nott, leave the poor man alone.” He muttered. The sounds stopped a few desks away from him.

 

“He’s your type.” A shrill, high voice rang out to Molly’s left. He jumped. “He’s bright.”

 

“Nott...” Caleb warned. There was a sigh and a shuffle away from him and the noises stopped. Caleb captured his attention again. 

 

“Mr. Mollymauk,” he said again. “What’s been happening.” 

 

“My tarot cards have been warning me.” Molly started. He really wasn’t sure how to explain this. “I’ve been getting the same reading every day for weeks. And then weird shit started happening in my apartment. My stove kept turning on and then plates started falling on their own, and then a knife flew from the sink and almost through my chest, so, yeah, I figured I had some spooky shit going on.” Caleb kept time with him, writing as he listened. He hummed once Molly was done and shut the notebook.

 

“What cards?” Caleb asked.

 

“What?” Molly responded. He rubbed his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He tugged lightly on the ends.

 

“What cards did you pull?” 

 

“Uh- I uh, I pulled the Fool in my past, the Devil in my present, and Death in my future.” 

 

Caleb hummed at the answer. He took several minutes to look around his desk before he rubbed his fingers together, blew into his hands, and thrust his right hand towards Molly. It looked silly for a moment before a circle of glowing gold light erupted from the ground where Molly stood. The light cascaded up and up, twisting around and under his clothing and caressing his skin. It kissed his cheeks and plays with his hair, not hot enough to burn him, just enough his warm him up. Molly’s eyes flew wide open and he let out a shriek as the tendrils of light spread to every inch of his body, traced the lines of his tattoos, closes his eyes and untied the jacket from his waist on accident. As soon as the red leather hit the ground, the light vanished, as though it were connected to a switch. Caleb sucked in a breath, closed his eyes, and shook out his smoking fingers. Molly’s breath came in desperate, heaving gasps. 

 

“Interesting,” Caleb said after a moment. His blue eyes opened again, and he searched Molly’s face. “Mr. Mollymauk, someone is trying to kill you.” 


	2. A Show of Scrutiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Motorbike rides, intimidating roommates, sweet tea, light bulbs, and demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what fuck weekly updates. If I finish the chapter early, I'm posting it because I want to. Tuesday is still the day to watch out for, but yeah. 
> 
> So, this one is fun. I'm pretty pumped to get into all of these folks and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I'll be back on Tuesday with the next chapter! Thanks!
> 
> As always, you can find me on Tumblr at gayshitiguess to see my fics or you can follow my main blog ispeakforthetreesandthings

“What the fuck?” Molly wheezed. He caught himself on the corner of the desk and tried to regain his composure. The glowing gold shit hadn’t hurt him in the least, but panic had boiled up inside of him and forced all of the air out of his lungs. His head swam and he felt as though he might collapse at any moment. Caleb didn’t seem to notice.

“I was seeing what has touched you.” He said simply, as though it were an actual, real explanation. Caleb, on the other hand, looked a bit rougher than he had before. His eyes were a bit more sunken, his frame a bit more bent into itself, his sweaters a bit less filled. It looked like something had sucked the life right out of him.

“What?” Molly screamed. He felt like he was losing his mind. Again. “What the fuck is happening?” Caleb put his hands up in surrender and sat down on the desk. A stack of boxes behind him almost toppled over as they were shifted. “Is there a giant rat or something running around in your panic room? What the fuck did you just do to me? Who the fuck are you?” Caleb sigh and pushed his glasses back to the top of his head.

“Please stop yelling,” he said. “No, I do not have a rat. I just cast a spell on you to see what kind of creatures had interfered with your aura. I am Caleb Widogast.”

Molly collected his things quickly, and turned heal, his Jordans squeaking on the metal floor.

“Mr. Mollymauk-” Caleb called, but Molly was already moving. He wasn’t a stranger to dangerous and vulnerable situations. He was a trusting person, but never a trusting person without an escape plan. He came to the door that led back through the hallway into the interior of Caleb’s shop. It was locked. Fuck. More panic rose up inside of him. He took a step back and kicked the door where the handle met the wall, just like Yasha had taught him. He heard the wood crack, but the door didn't give way. He tried again. Nothing. “Mr. Mollymauk, that will not be necessary,” Caleb said.

“Oh, it won’t?” Molly said, raising himself to his full height. “You’ve locked me in a room and obviously drugged me or something because I absolutely refuse to believe that you’re a magic wizard. Let me leave if you want to keep your door.”

“Certainly,” Caleb said. He pulled the ring of keys from his pocket and bent down to unlock the door. Molly watched his every move and fingered his way into the brass knuckles in his pocket. “Although, I must say, if you leave now without me, you will be dead within the week.”

“Is that some kind of threat?” Molly said. “Because I’m not threatened. My roommate is a bodyguard and I’m from the circus, friend, we’re crafty.”

“No,” Caleb said simply. The door opened and Molly pushed through. He swung his jacket over his shoulders despite the heat. He zipped it to his neck. “I’m not threatening you. You are in danger.”

“Whatever.” Molly moved quickly through the hallway and waited by the door to be let out.

“You have a dangerous, violent spirit in your home. It wants you dead as poltergeist tend to. You are free to go if you don’t want my help.” Caleb sounded calm and tired despite the high tensions.

“I’ll just burn some sage or some shit, thanks,” Molly said.

“That won’t work.” There was that shrill voice again, somewhere further down the hallway. Molly was getting tired of this shit.

“What the fuck are you?” He yelled. There was a squeak and a flutter of feet. Retreating.

“Nott,” Caleb said. The feet stopped. “Just come out. He won’t hurt you.” Mollymauk scrunched his face up and gripped his brass knuckles

“Oh, I most certainly-”

The creature that stepped out of the shadows at Caleb’s request was a slight one. Perhaps the size of a child. That’s what Molly thought it was, at first. Just a little girl who was very good at hide and seek. She didn’t have Caleb’s red hair or his freckles, but at first glance, she was normal. Molly assumed that she was Caleb's daughter or sister or something. Caleb hummed and waved his hand in front of his face, as though batting away a bug. The same gold magic that had inspected Molly waved away in dustings of pixie dust around the girl.

Well, not a girl. That much was clear.

She- he thought she, he would have to ask- she was indeed small and no older than nine. She had sickly green skin that looked wrinkled and peeling in some places. Her eyes were a glowing yellow, too big and too round for her little head. They illuminate the area more than the measly overhead lights. They were slit vertically like a cat. Her long, dark hair was stringy and masked in grease. The top half of her right ear was bitten off and the other was long and pointed. She smiled. Her teeth were yellowed, too long, and too many. She was a truly ghastly sight.

Mollymauk pressed himself back into the corner of the hallway, surrounded on all sides by danger and books.

“You do not need to be afraid of her,” Caleb instructed. “She is very good at stealing things, but to a customer, quite harmless.” Molly took stock of his possessions.

“Where’s my necklace?” He asked. His voice was barely above a whisper. Caleb, who had stopped trying to unlock the door, looked up at him.

“Nott...” He said, drawing her name out like a parent scolding a child. She hung her little head and shuffled her feet.

“It’s very pretty.” She said, reaching a skinny, skeleton hand out to Molly. His garnet pendant hung from its long golden chain. He took it slowly and clutched it to his heart.

“Thank you.” He said. Nott seemed to relax at his words. Her eyes traveled down to his fist.

“What is that?” She asked, pointing to his brass knuckles. They were bright pink, shiny, and a gift from their neighbors. He realized he still looked ready to crack open a skull and removed them from his hand. He felt very silly all of a sudden.

“Oh um-” he started. Caleb didn’t let him finish. He unlocked the door and motioned Molly out.

Molly’s head was spinning and he felt even more lost than he had before all of this. A ghost he could handle. A ghost wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility in his life. But a ragged, messy wizard and his zombie friend were... it was too much. It was all too much for Molly to handle. He wanted this fixed, but he’d rather move than deal with these crazy people.

“Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb said. Molly braced himself on the counter and tried to breathe deeply.

“Mr. Caleb,” Molly replied, defeated. Caleb smiled softly and left space between them. He was giving Molly room. Molly unzipped his jacket.

“I do believe that you are in danger. Gustav was an old friend, and I am inclined to help someone he cares about. I cannot gather enough information about the situation from here. You need a consultation.”

Molly shook his head and pulled his hair back from his face, twisted it into a tight bun, and then let the bun fall down again. Repeat.

“What does a consultation include?” Molly asked after a moment.

“I would need to see your apartment,” Caleb said. Molly laughed.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” he said. “What are my other options.”

“Well,” Caleb said. He rubbed the scruff on his chin and cheeks. “If it is tied to your home, then you could move.” Molly nodded.

“Not likely on my budget.” He muttered.

“Or,” Caleb continued. “If it’s tied to you, you could start planning your funeral.” Molly let out a sharp sigh and rubbed his eyes.

Caleb was patient. He didn’t interrupt Molly’s thinking or try to push him one way or the other. He stood quite still, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the wall. His eyes were cast on Molly’s shoes, although he could hardly blame him, they were very nice and very bright. Molly’s fashion sense was eye-catching, if off-kilter, and crazy, custom sneakers were his go-to if he wanted to spice something up. The ones he was wearing were Retro, blue and gold. His laces were sparkly. His socks were stripped. Jester said that he had the fashion sense of a Disney channel movie from the 80’s.

Caleb lifted his eyes and stared at the peacock feathers on Molly’s cheek as he spoke.

“If you decide to leave-”

“No,” Molly said. He had a feeling that he was going to regret this somehow. Caleb was... strange? Strange. Dangerous. He had done something miraculous and Molly was desperate for someone who could do miraculous things. He was also cute. Hmm. Molly thought. The Devil. “I’m not going to move all of my shit. A consultation it is.”

Caleb nodded and pulled out his keys.

“Nott,” he said softly, “I’ll be back soon. Please lock the doors and stay inside.” Nott walked up to him with a black leather bag clutched in her hands. He took it gratefully and traded the keys for it. She clutched them, the ring too big in her little hands.

“Don’t get dead.” She said.

“You too,” Caleb said.

Caleb moved towards the front of the shop and Molly moved to follow him, but a hand clutched tightly to his pants. Molly jumped a bit but turned to little Nott.

“If anything happens to Caleb, I will steal your eyes.” She said. Molly blinked, swallowed his panic, and smiled.

“Okay, little one.” He said.

“I’m not little.” She said. “I’m a lady.” Molly felt a laugh creeping up despite himself.

“Well, my lady,” he said. “I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

“Nott,” Caleb called from the front door, “stop threatening him. We need to go.” Nott released Molly’s pant leg and disappeared from sight before he could say goodbye.

It was hot as Molly stepped outside. He kept his jacket on, though. He only needed to crash his bike once to know to wear leather every time he rode. He pulled his keys from his pocket and got on his bike.

“Okay, so, I guess you can just follow me,” Molly said, securing his helmet. Caleb shuffled his feet.

“I ah-” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t have a car.” Molly blinked.

“Oh,” Molly said. He stood from his bike and opened the seat compartment. Yasha’s black helmet was still inside. “You can just ride with me.” He held the helmet out to Caleb. He looked even more nervous.

“I’ve never- ah...” Molly smiled.

“It’s fine, I’m an excellent driver.” Caleb still looked anxious, but he took the Helmet and secured the strap around his chin. Molly stowed his bag in the seat compartment and got back on. Caleb looked a little ridiculous, standing there on the sidewalk with the too-big helmet on. “You can get on the bike, you know.” He laughed.

“I uh-” Caleb cut himself off with a cough and got on. He clutched the sides of the seat and avoided skin contact with Molly.

“You should probably hold on to my waist,” Molly said. “Oh!” He took off his jacket and held it back to Caleb. Caleb clutched it and traced his fingers over the embroidery on the back. “It helps stop road rash. Not completely, of course, but you know. It’s safer.” Caleb opened his mouth a few times as though he were trying to figure out what to say, but, in the end, he slung the jacket on and tentatively placed his hands on Molly’s waist, careful to only touch Molly's clothing.

Molly started his bike, revved his engine, and peeled out of the parking space and down the road. As soon as the bike moved, Caleb surged forward and wrapped his arms full around Molly’s waist, his too-thin chest to Molly’s back. Molly laughed like a maniac.

Molly tended not to speed when he wasn’t rushed to get somewhere, and he was almost never rushed to get somewhere, but he had a boy on the back of his bike, and Molly was not above showing off. He swerved in between cars and laughed as Caleb let out panicked noises behind him.

The ride was only about ten minutes, and when they pulled into the parking garage, Caleb was still clutching tightly to Molly. He gently pulled Caleb’s hands apart and got off his bike. Caleb took a moment to collect himself.

“See?” Molly said. He took off his helmet and shook out his curls. “I told you I was a good driver.” Caleb took off his helmet and blindly flattened down his hair.

“You are a madman.”

Molly laughed like one.

Beauregard and Jester were wonderful neighbors. Well, Jester was a wonderful neighbor. Beauregard was, well... Beauregard.

Jester was perhaps the sweetest person he’d ever met. She hailed from a port city in the Mediterranean that she was effectively banished from for messing with too many people of power. It didn’t bother her too much, being away from home, besides being separated from her mother. They had started a very, very long string of emails, and Marian visited during the holidays. Jester had taken to her mother’s profession and became a sex worker, so every couple of days, Beau and Yasha would act as security to keep her safe. She wasn’t pressed for work, either. Jester was beautiful. She was round and strong, with deep, dark skin and wavy, bobbed hair. Molly was somewhat obsessed with her. Jester was actually the reason that the four of them were friends. When he and Yasha had moved in, she brought them cookies, and they had started a conversation that turned into Jester making them dinner, which turned into a sleepover, which turned into best friends forever. They had bracelets and everything. The two of them had gone on one date when they acknowledged how beautiful they both were. It turned into the two of them dicking around with the rich people in the fancy restaurant they’d chosen. They had decided that they were more powerful as friends. That was another thing, Jester’s mom was rich. Beyond rich. Molly didn’t care much for money, but he did care for eating and Jester always covered the bill.

Beauregard was the complete antithesis of Jester. She was a Queens native, and loud about it. She was slim, lithe, and powerful. Beau was actually a boxer. She came home every few nights well past midnight, the shit beat out of her and money in her pocket. Beau was a very good boxer, but her managers had made her the heel of their division. She wasn’t necessarily happy about it, but the money was good, even if she had to lose fights to get it. Beau was a rough person. She wasn’t nice, she wasn’t polite, and she didn’t like to bullshit people. She said what she was thinking, and while that was sometimes hurtful, Molly could respect it. The first time that the two of them had met, She greeted him with;

“Your tattoos are fucking lame.”

Mollymauk disagreed, but he appreciated her candor. The two of them butted heads a lot. Molly was an optimistic person. He looked on the bright side of things, but Beau was pragmatic, sometimes cynical. They were both just awful sometimes. They fought, spat, and cursed at each other, but when they teamed up, they were something dangerous.

Their apartments faced each other. Beau’s and Jester’s used to be a kitchen, but was stripped of all of the heavy appliances except for the industrial oven that Jester adored. Beau didn’t care for decorating and her room was almost baren except for the posters from her winning fights, an almost empty bookshelf, and her clothes tossed on the ground. Molly didn’t know it was possible to own so many clothes when you wore the same sports bra and joggers every day, but hey, he wasn’t one to talk. Jester, however, took good care in their apartment. They had a very nice couch and a flat-screen tv. They had blankets with which to build forts, fairy lights hanging everywhere. Jester had taken the time to explain her complicated color scheme to Molly, but he didn’t really have an eye for those things, so it was lost on him. It was lovely, though. It always smelled of sugar and sweat. If Molly didn’t love his apartment so much, he’d move in with them.

Apartment 101 was dark and the door was locked. Mollymauk didn’t stop to look at it, but Caleb did. He placed his hand on the door, but pulled away quickly, as though he was burned. Molly cast him a concerned look and knocked three times on apartment 102. He hoped that Jester would answer.

“Dude,” Beauregard sigh as she opened the door, “we’ve got a rule, 20-minute warnings before bringing babes home.” Caleb turned a delightful shade of red.

“Caleb’s not my babe,” Molly said, flicking her off in form of greeting which Beau returned, “he’s my exorcist.” Molly moved past her and into the kitchen. “Are Jester and Yasha home?”

“Yeah, they’re in Jester’s room,” Beau said, not taking her eyes off of Caleb. “I think Jester’s torturing her.” Molly grabbed a sweet tea from the fridge and knocked on Jester’s bedroom door. There was a squeal from inside, and the door swung open.

“Molly!” Jester cried. She threw her arms around Molly’s neck and he swung her around.

“Hello, darling, how _are_ you this morning?” He asked, setting her down and handing her the sweet tea.

“It is two P.M,” Caleb muttered. Beau shot him a look somewhere between ‘ _how dare you_ ,’ and ‘ _finally, someone understands_.’ Beau had actually boxed Caleb into the side of the refrigerator, squaring him off and investigating him intently.

Yasha came out of Jester’s room with her wild, curly hair brushed and half-braided down her back. Molly turned to see Caleb’s face when she walked out. Yasha was huge. She was six feet tall and wide enough to be two people in a plain black t-shirt. She met Molly’s eye, then looked at Caleb. Molly practically saw the protectiveness seep from her. Caleb’s eyes were huge and mildly panicked. Molly couldn’t blame him. There was nothing scarier than a protective giant in cargo pants.

“Molly,” Yasha said. She regarded him with quiet warmth. Molly stood on his tiptoes and kissed her cheek.

“Everybody, this is Caleb, he’s going to be helping us with the whole ghost thing.” Caleb stayed where he was, crushed against the fridge by Beauregard’s stare. “Caleb, the big, intimidating one is Yasha, the absolutely adorable one it Jester-” she giggled and waved, “and the difficult one is Beau.” Caleb felt cornered.

“Ah-” Caleb couldn’t find his voice. “I’m- ah, sorry, you’re all roommates?” Jester lit up at his accent.

“No!” She said, moving forward and waving Beau’s investigation away. She took Caleb’s hand and led him out into the living area. “Molly and Yasha are best friends and they share a really bad apartment and Beau and I live together because we’re best friends! Are you sure Molly isn’t going to date you?” She poked his ribs. “He’s too skinny to date, Molly.” Caleb’s face went impossibly redder. Molly sat back and watched.

“So-so, the tall one, you are Molly’s roommate?” Yasha nodded. “Do you have any experience with ghosts?”

Yasha thought for a moment and then shook her head.

“Molly’s more likely to do that sort of thing.” She said. Her voice was soft.

“And I don’t get into spirits and shit.” He cut in.

“As you’ve said.” Caleb rubbed his chin again and squirmed under Jester’s gaze.

Molly got the sense that Caleb wasn’t used to this sort of attention. He moved from his perch watching the chaos and took Caleb’s hand.

“You’ll probably want to see the apartment.” He said, leading Caleb out of the room. Yasha walked dutifully behind him. She had been unwilling to let him go back into the apartment alone since he’d almost been killed a few times, and Molly took comfort in her steady presence behind him. He led the way, unlocked the door, and stood aside for Caleb to enter. When he did, a shiver ran up Caleb’s spine, and he expelled a shaky breath. Yasha entered after him, watching his every move. Molly followed.

As soon as Molly crossed the threshold where the ugly carpeting of the hallway met the rotting hardwood on of their kitchen, Caleb gasped harshly and stood stock straight, as though he’d been shocked. Yasha reached forward when he jumped and caught his shoulder. Molly was surprised and stepped back, but before he crossed back into the hallway, all of the lights turned on. They’d turned everything off when they’d left, taped the stove dials and light switches in place, and left the air conditioning off. Even so, the lights started flickering before they turned on fully, and then they got brighter. Their appliances were shit, the lights had never worked so well. They kept getting brighter and brighter and brighter. Molly’s eyes hurt. It was too much, too bright, too bright, too bright.

There was an ear-splitting crash as every lightbulb in their apartment erupted at once. Glass scattered everywhere. Molly covered his head and let out a yelp. He felt someone push past him.

“Out!” Caleb yelled. Molly felt glued to his spot. He felt Yasha take him by the shoulders and start to lead him out. Molly opened his eyes again to see Caleb, having stormed through the hallway and into Beau and Jester’s, tearing through their cabinets. Beau jumped from her place on their couch and approached him.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” She yelled. She caught hold of his wrist, but he easily pulled free.

“Salt!” Caleb cried, pulling out spices and almost-empty bottles of olive oil. Finally, he seemed to come across what he wanted. He clutched the large container of salt close to himself and push his way back to Molly’s door. He reached inside and closed it without his foot crossing the threshold. Caleb tore the top off of the salt and poured a neat line in front of the door like they did in Supernatural. Once the line was complete, Caleb whispered into his fingers, rubbed them together, and slammed his palm flat into the ground. He threw his hand up towards the top of the door. A sheet of gold magic covered the door, then faded steadily from few. Caleb leaned back against the wall and caught his breath.

Beau and Jester were watching with wide eyes from their doorway. Yasha wrapped her arm around the front of Molly's chest. Everything was still.

“What the _fuck_?” Beau breathed.

Caleb laughed pathetically and pulled out a flip phone from his pocket. Whoever he was calling answered on the first ring.

“Nott,” Caleb wheezed. “Call Fjord. I think we have a demon.”


	3. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavender and mint tea, tarot readings, Sylvia Plath, new love, and Fjord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter this time, a Lunar Interlude of sorts. I finally get to introduce Fjord! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I'll be back soon with the next chapter. Expect a longer one and much more action. 
> 
> As always, you can find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess

Caleb stayed on the phone for several minutes with Nott, asking her to bring him certain things and collect certain supplied, most of which made very little sense to Molly. At some point, he switched to a language that Yasha identified as German, and Molly got the idea that Caleb didn’t want them to know what he was saying, so he led the girls into the apartment and put the kettle on. 

 

Molly was, in all honesty, a bit shaken up. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. He’d had his moments of spiritual awakening and existential crisis, but never anything like this. He shuffled his tarot cards a few times absentmindedly before he pulled one. 

 

_Fuck_.

 

The Fool. Molly sighed and poured himself a mug of the lavender and mint tea that Yasha had given him for his birthday. He added more sugar than he strictly needed to. He let the aroma calm him as he waited for it to cool. 

 

Caleb came into Jester and Beau’s apartment, closing his flip phone and shaking glass out of his hair. 

 

“I have resources coming. They will take a few hours.” Nobody said anything. Nobody moved. Jester stared straight back at Caleb as though he were some strange and unknown creature. Beau puffed up her chest and linked her arm in Jester’s. Yasha crossed her arms and looked away. “Ah, yes, and I’m a wizard. So there’s that.” 

 

“Caleb,” Molly said, “tea?” Caleb didn’t meet his eye but nodded and joined him in the kitchen. Jester’s kitchen was nice, and it really was exclusively her kitchen, because Molly thought that Beau might never have seen the room before. It was painted a soft pastel blue with a yellow backsplash and white marble countertops. Jester was rich enough and kind enough to flip the entire apartment for their landlord, and poor Bryce wasn’t going to turn down a very nice apartment they had to move out of eventually. Molly poured Caleb a cup and started to add sugar. He stopped him and took the mug in his hands, warming them. “You look a bit off there, hot stuff.” Caleb looked even worse than he had before, his fingers were bony where he held his mug. His bright blue eyes looked translucent and sunken. He leaned back against the countertop and sighed heavily. 

 

“My magic isn’t always, ah-” Caleb ducked his head and scratched his eyebrow. “Good for me.” Molly nodded in sympathy. Caleb studied his tea intently. 

 

“I’m guessing that you don’t want to talk about that right now, but I will interrogate you later.” Caleb smiled minutely. “Want a reading?” Molly shuffled his cards from one hand to another and waggled his eyebrows at Caleb. Caleb nodded and took a sip from his tea. It was too hot still, and he scrunched his face up and swallowed down the tea nonetheless. 

 

“Okay, take a moment, shuffle the cards, get your energy on them.” Molly handed his deck over and Caleb complied, shuffling and cutting the deck with skilled hands. No flare like Molly usually did, but efficient and clean. “Is there anything specific you’d like to talk about?” 

 

“Besides the demon in your apartment?” Caleb said, his voice soft. 

 

“Was that a joke, Mr. Caleb?” Molly asked. He clutched his necklace dramatically and feigned shock. 

 

“No.” Caleb ducked his head. 

 

“That’s a shame,” Molly said. “It was a good one.” Caleb blushed and handed the deck back to Molly. Molly spread them across the countertop in a clean line. “Past first, then present, then the future.” Caleb nodded and took his time choosing each card. He ran his fingers over the surface of them and stopped every once in a while before moving on. When he had pulled his three cards, Molly smiled.

 

“Okay, for the past you pulled...” Molly flipped the card. “The moon! In the past, you had a plan. You had something that you were reaching for and you were denied that. You are hungry for something. That denial has left you even more determined. You should ask yourself, Caleb, what you want so much that you’re willing to humble yourself for it.” Caleb pulled a little black notebook from his pocket and began to take notes. “In your present... ha!” Molly laughed for a moment before continuing, “Death. Don’t worry, death isn’t half as bad as most people think it is. Death is just a transformation. You are in the process of becoming something else, of growing as a person and as a part of this universe. You have new things ahead of you, but don’t be afraid to let go of the things from the past that holds you back.” Caleb nodded and scribbled down more notes. “And in your future, you pulled...” Molly flipped the card and smiled softly. “The Ace of Cups. This card represents a lot of things, but to me, it really represents new love. In the future, you’re going to be presented with the chances to be loved by new people and in new situations. Do it! Let people love you! You’ve got a lot of good in your future, Caleb, and that pain in the past and the transformation you’re going through now are only going to help you along the way. Whatever you’ve lost will be found tenfold.” 

 

“Interesting reading,” Caleb muttered. 

 

“Well, it's pretty positive. The possibilities are endless. You could be so lucky to have me as that new love.” Molly was half joking. 

 

“Are you so vicious a lover?” Caleb tucked his hair behind his ear. He didn’t look up from his notebook. 

 

“I eat men like air.” Molly replied, baring his teeth. 

 

“Oh, you know Plath?” Caleb said, unphased by Molly’s intentions.

 

“Who?” Molly sipped his tea. 

 

Caleb finished his notes as Molly finished talking and he spent several minutes reading over them again. Molly watched as he mouthed the words ever so slightly. Caleb’s lips were red, wet, and thin. Molly wondered how they would feel on his skin. He collected his cards, separated them into major and minor arcanas, into Cups, Swords, Pentacles, and Wands, and then shuffled them back together. Caleb sipped his tea. It was cool. 

 

The two of them sat together quietly for a while as Molly shuffled his cards and Caleb made notes in a language that Molly couldn’t read. Molly finished his tea quickly, and Caleb’s went cold beside him. 

 

“I was a Catholic,” Caleb said suddenly, startling Molly out of his concentration. 

 

“I’m sorry?” Molly said, his voice quirking up into a question. 

 

“It was my parent’s religion. I was raised in it. It was fine, for the most part.” Caleb closed his notebook and held his mug of cold tea to his chest. He sipped it despite its temperature. “When I began to display these talents of mine,” Caleb snapped his fingers, and a flame danced from his thumb across his knuckles, “the church believed that I was possessed by a demon.” 

 

“You weren’t,” Molly said.

 

“I wasn’t,” Caleb replied. “The church recommended to my parents an exorcist. Not a real one, like me, a bad, Catholic one.”

 

“Is there another kind of Catholic exorcist,” Molly asked. Caleb laughed hallowly. 

 

“They were hesitant, but most people will listen to the advice of elders that they trust. Very, very long story short, my parents released me to the care of an exorcist and he damaged my magic. It is painful to use. It is almost always drained. I know many skilled magicians who can do wonderful things, but I am limited by what my body can take. So I do favors for normal people like you and hope that my spells don’t kill me.” 

 

“Jesus,” Molly said. 

 

“Indeed,” Caleb said. 

 

“I’m sorry, Caleb.” Molly was quiet now, he gently placed a hand on Caleb’s wrist. Caleb shook his head and squirmed away from the touch. Molly reached out to comfort him when there was a knock at the door. 

 

“Fjord,” Caleb said simply. He left his cup of tea on the counter and retreated to the front door. Molly heard Jester talking loudly to someone at the door, apparently this Fjord fellow. Molly came to sit by Beau.

 

“So how’s skinny, dark, and dangerous?” Beau asked, leaning to press her shoulder against Molly’s. 

 

“Emphasis on the dangerous,” Molly replied. Beau laughed lightly. Jester plopped down on the other side of Beau and poked Molly’s cheek.    
  


“Molly, the guy that Caleb brought is very handsome and I think that you and I should team up.” She flashed him her huge, puppy dog eyes that she knew he couldn’t say no to. Molly took very little convincing when he knew something would cause probable trouble and possible sex. 

 

“Oh, darling, of course.” They smiled at each other. 

 

“Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb called from the doorway, “I’ve got someone for you to meet.”

 

“Coming Mr. Caleb,” Molly called back. He shot Jester a wink and brushed Yasha’s hair behind her shoulder as he walked by. 

 

Caleb was standing in the door, talking hurriedly to a tall figure in the hallway. Molly approached cautiously. 

 

It was always extremely strange for Molly to meet someone taller than Yasha. Fjord was pushing 6’5, and he didn’t have Yasha’s muscle or anything, but he was, from what Molly could see, absolutely delightful. He had dark skin and short, well-maintained hair. His smile was wide and well used. Molly bit his lip as he approached and took in Fjord’s kind eyes, his calloused hands, his scarred face. He could see the outlines of a tattoo hiding under Fjord’s red shirt. Fjord looked excellent in a pair of fitted jeans. His boots were heavy and worn. He held in his hand a black duffle bag and had a large book tucked under his armpit. 

 

Jester was going to have a good time with that one. 

 

“Ah- Mollymauk,” Caleb said, turning over his shoulder, “this is Fjord, he is a demon specialist. If anyone can help, it is him.” 

 

“Good afternoon, uh- Molly-” Fjord’s voice was deep, warm, and burdened with a southern accent that made it roll over Molly’s senses like butter. He stumbled over Molly’s name.

 

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends.” Molly tried to match Fjord’s charm. 

 

“It’s a pleasure, Molly. I’m just here to assess the situation. If there’s anything I can do to help, I assure you that I will.” Fjord smiled again, wide and kind. 

 

“Oh, Fjord, my friend,” Molly smiled back at him, “you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” 


	4. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obsidian, tapestries, candles, swords, and shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYYYYYYY ya boi is back with a new chapter! Shit is about to get REAL. This chapter and the next are going to be GOOOOOOODDD SHIT. Find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess

Fjord plopped the black duffle bag down on Jester’s dining room table and unzipped it. He slid the large tome over to Caleb and pulled a series of necklaces with large, black stones out of a side pocket. He set them down carefully on the table, his hands never brushing the stones themselves. Caleb took up the necklaces from him, hanging one around his own neck and leaving one on the table beside of him. 

“Nott,” he said quietly, “for you.” 

Caleb handed one to Yasha, Beau, and Jester, and realized that he was one short. He cursed and shook his head. 

“Molly,” Caleb said. He tossed Molly the necklace. 

“What’s this?” He asked, running the stone across his lips. 

“Obsidian,” Fjord said. “It protects against malicious spirits.” Molly shot his eyes to Caleb.

“Well, you’re the exorcist,” Molly said, “you need it more than me.” He pulled the necklace off and held the chain towards Caleb. He sighed, took the necklace, and hung it back around Molly’s neck. His fingers trailed along the chain, barely kissing Molly’s skin. His heart fluttered inexplicably in his chest. 

Fjord and Caleb talked quietly with their eyes. Fjord bulged his dark ones out for a moment, and Caleb shot his blue ones to his shoes. Fjord rolled his and Caleb turned his attention back to the book that Fjord had bought. Looking over his shoulder, Molly couldn’t decide whether it was latin or greek. He glanced at the table and found the extra necklace missing. Nott was in the house. 

“Little Lady,” Molly called into the apartment, “don’t steal their stuff.” Yasha shot him a concerned look. “You’ll find out eventually,” Molly said. 

There was some shuffling and then a crash from Jester’s room. She jumped and turned to investigate, but Fjord placed a warm hand on her shoulder. 

“Best not,” he said softly. Jester seemed to melt. 

“What the fuck was that?” Beau asked. She grabbed Jester’s hand possessively. Fjord got the message and backed down. 

“That’s Nott,” Caleb, Fjord, and Molly said in unison. 

 

“Not what?” Beau replied. Molly smiled and winked at her. 

Fjord and Caleb continued to prepare. They were talking, and Molly could understand all of the words that they said, but he didn’t know what they meant in that order or context. He listened intently, though. He liked both of their voices, and hearing them mix together in familiar and intense conversation was heaven to his ears. He fixed himself another cup of tea and settled in to listen to them. 

Yasha caught his eye a few moments after their initial introductions. Molly raised his eyebrows at her intense look. 

Don’t you dare. Yasha’s mismatched eyes said to him. 

I’m not a slut, Yash, I’m not just going to fuck him. Molly rolled his eyes back.

Molly... Yasha said. 

Okay, I am a slut, but I promise I’ll be virtuous for you, angle. Molly smiled and sipped his tea. Yasha sighed and sat down at the dining room table next to him. Molly took her hand in his and squeezed. She worried about him desperately, and he knew it. He still took care to encourage her when she got protective.

Caleb’s eyes met their joined hands and casted away quickly. Molly didn’t withdraw. 

“I think I need to see this apartment.” Fjord said, clapping his hands together and looking expectantly to Caleb. 

“Ah-of course.” He said. “Mollymauk?” Molly stood and brushed his hair behind his ears. Yasha stood with him.

“He’s not going alone.” She said. She crossed her arms. 

“I assure you, ma’am,” Fjord began, raising his hands in surrender, “we’ll keep him very safe.” 

“He’s almost died the last two times he’s been in there, and it’s my apartment too.” She said. No suggestions. Fjord seemed to understand an order. Beau stiffened next to Jester on the couch. 

“Well, if Yasha’s going, then so am I.” Ah, Molly had almost forgotten Beauregard’s campaign to get his best friend into her bed. He wasn’t opposed to it. Beau could use some of Yasha’s tender care and Yasha could use some of Beau’s readily available attention. Beauregard, while brash and bold and sometimes cruel, had sometimes gentle in her. There was a kind of innocence to her love that came from growing up with a homophobic father and having to hide away her affections. She was new to this part of herself. Beau had struggled with internal homophobia since she’d moved out of her parent’s home, and with Molly and Jester as examples of happy, healthy people in the LGBTQ+ community, she had begun to accept herself. She’d even begun to use the word ‘lesbian,’ something she was very nervous about when she had first confessed her feelings to the three of them in the middle of the night during a sleepover. To see her showing her interest in Yasha was promising, even if that interest was subtle and ungraceful. 

“I don’t want to be here alone!” Jester said, grabbing Beau’s hand and resting her head on Beau’s shoulder. Beau blushed and intertwined her fingers with Jester’s. 

Then again, Beau could like Jester as well. To be completely honest, Molly couldn’t blame her. They were both exquisite creatures in different ways. 

“It's not safe for all of you to come.” Caleb sighed. 

“Well, we have these necklace thingies, so we’ll be fine!” Jester bounced on her toes. 

“That’s not exactly how it works, Jester,” Fjord said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. 

“Molly is not going alone,” Yasha said. Her tone was final, and even though Fjord was taller than her, she could snap him in half and he knew it. Caleb started walking towards the door. 

Apartment 101 was still dark, still empty, and Molly was careful not to break the salt line when he opened the door and stepped inside. He tensed as his foot hit the hardwood inside of his apartment, and waited for something to shatter. 

Everything was quiet. Molly moved fully into his apartment. Broken glass crunched under his feet. Caleb followed after him. He had removed his sweaters and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Molly was surprised to see that Caleb was kind of ripped. He was no bodybuilder, but he was obviously used to work. He had his glasses balancing on the tip of his nose and the large, leather book open in his hands. He looked focused, purposeful. He had a determination about him in his work that was just... sexy. It was sexy to see him so in his element. 

Molly might have been slightly, just a bit in over his head. 

“Molly, Yasha,” Caleb said, keeping his eyes in front of him, open to the apartment, “would you give us a tour?” 

Yasha led the group through their small kitchenette that connected to their living room. They had no couches or furniture, just a series of comfortable pillows and beautifully woven quilts that Molly had purchased for far too much from a kind old woman who still practiced the art of quilting. They had an old desktop computer that ran only Netflix on the rare occasions that the two of them were in the mood for a movie. Molly had crudely hung tapestries to cover the gross, yellow-beige color of their walls. Yasha lead them to her room, where her many hanging plants and flowers were beginning to wilt in their neglect. Yasha loved nature, and being surrounded by it in her urban setting was beneficial to her mental health. Her plants oxygenized the room and gave her a daily routine of watering and caring for them. She knew that when she watered her peace lily, she needed to take her anxiety pill. She knew that when she watered her ferns, it was time for lunch. She knew that when she watered her geraniums, it was time to go to bed. That structure was helpful beyond description and a welcome help. Her bedside lamp had shattered. She carefully pulled pieces of glass out of her lavender and mint. Molly lead them into his room next. It was quite simply a mattress on the ground, his clothes scattered on the floor, candles melted into his window sill, and a bookshelf to hold all of his tarot decks. He had translucent purple curtains with constellations on them, a heavy red comforter, and more mismatched pillows than were strictly necessary. He had a large silver tapestry depicting a great dragon hanging at the head of his bed. He had taken care to hang it delicately instead of nailing it into the wall as he had with the others. Molly realized that he was a bit of a mess, and he kicked a few shirts and pairs of underwear towards his laundry bin half-heartedly. Fjord nodded and headed back to the living room. 

Molly watched as he and Caleb closed and locked all of their windows and laid salt lines across all of the sills. Caleb requested five candles, three white, two black. Molly met his requirements easily. Caleb reached into the duffle bag and pulled out a stick of chalk. He pulled back the carpeting and drew a large pentagram on the floor. He set the candles at each point, and, with the snap of his fingers, they lit simultaneously. 

“Right,” Caleb said. “Thank you for showing us the apartment, but it is too dangerous now. Everybody out.” Molly blinked and looked at Caleb. 

“No.” He said, crossing his arms. 

“Mollymauk, I admire your daring, but these things feed off of people and energy,” Caleb spoke to him as though he was a child. It grated on Molly’s nerves. “You all need to leave now.” 

“If it’s dangerous, then you shouldn’t be here either,” Molly said. “I’m not leaving you here alone.” Caleb breathed deeply and clenched his fist. 

“Yes, you are.” Caleb gently took Molly’s wrist in his hand and started walking towards the door. 

Caleb almost made it to the door before it slammed shut and locked. 

“Fuck,” Caleb whispered. He turned around as Fjord tossed him a large container of salt. Caleb poured a large circled on the floor and ordered everybody to stay inside of it. Caleb stepped into the center of his pentagram and rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath. 

Fjord shook out his hands and closed his eyes. Molly watched as he flexed his right hand and clutched it into a fist. The tattoo that was peaking out of Fjord’s shirt was that of a tentacle. It was simple enough, but the longer that Molly looked at it, the more detailed it looked. And then, it moved from wrapping around his shoulder and down his arm. With a spray of sea water, a long, jagged sword appeared in his hand. Fjord swung the sword around in his hand and took to walking around Caleb’s circle protectively. 

Caleb began to mutter something in another language and closed his eyes. His hands began to glow with that golden energy and his feet lifted from the ground a few inches. 

The apartment began to shake. 

At first, it was just a tremor, a small shake in the ground. Then, it grew, the walls began to steadily shiver and quake. Cracks formed in the hardwood and Beau steadied herself on Jester’s shoulder. A plate flew from the sink and clanked into Molly’s arm. It didn’t shatter until it hit the ground. Yasha gripped his shirt to keep him inside of the circle. A book flew towards them again, but Fjord’s sword interrupted and split it into two.

“Caleb!” Fjord shouted over the creaking of the room, “It's after Molly.” 

Caleb kept muttering under his breath his entire being began to glow. Molly didn’t notice the knives until one sliced through his thigh. He cursed and clutched the cut. 

“Caleb!” Fjord shouted. Another knife came flying their way, but before it could cut through his chest, Beau shot her hand out and caught it, blade first. She dropped it quickly and pressed her thumb into the palm of her hand to try and stop the bleeding. Caleb was deaf to the chaos behind him. He was floating a foot off of the ground, golden magic swirling around him and blocking projectiles from throwing him out of his focus. His quiet chanting had turned into shouting to rise above the chaos of the shaking room. He looked heavenly and terrifying and Molly didn’t notice the knife that had come for his heart. 

Caleb did, though. His hand shot out towards Molly and all of the magic that he’d been building up around himself shot with it. It wrapped up Molly in a warm cocoon of energy. The knife bounced off harmlessly. The magic lifted Molly a few inches off the ground in its rush to protect him, and as its purpose was used, it dissipated into dust and scattered to the ground. Molly fell straight onto his ass and kicked the salt line out of place. 

Caleb hit the floor with him, landing harshly on his hands and knees. He locked eyes with Molly. For only a moment, everything was still. Harsh breathe, sweat dripping, hearts pounding. 

Then, movement. 

Just a bit, just a shadow in the corner. It slithered just out of place without something to cast it. It moved just a bit, but that bit grew. It moved across the floor, cutting through the gentle light of sundown shining through the curtains. It moved and climbed up a candle and swallowed the flame. It swallowed another, and then another, and then another, and then the last. It was slow and silent.

It was slow and silent until it snatched Caleb from his place on the ground and swallowed him too.


	5. Passed Through Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daemons, salt, white vans, cemeteries, and pink-haired strangers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YA BOI CADDY IS HERE BITCHES!!! I'm so pumped that I get to drop Caduceus. This was actually one of the first things that I wrote for this and his intro was something that I've had in mind since I started thinking about this AU. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As always, you can find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess or my main blog ispeakforthetreesandthings. Thank you!!

Molly was sat flat on his ass, feet kicked out of the salt line, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. The air was thick and cold and Molly couldn’t seem to get it into his lungs fast enough or in a large enough quantity. As soon as Caleb had been dragged into the shadows of his living room, everything had gone still. The only sound to be heard was Molly’s ragged breath and the steady ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. Molly couldn’t explain why, but the silence shot him back to the memory of a forest, somewhere far north, where the cold didn’t just exist around him but bit into his skin. He was walking slowly through the trees and suddenly, everything, all of the sounds of the forest, disappeared. Everything went silent. Molly didn’t know this, not in his mind, not in his experience, but instinct told him that quiet meant predator. 

Sometimes Molly got swept up in memories that weren’t his. Most of the time, it was those moments of Deja vou, but sometimes triggers to his memory were so stark and exact that he was lost to himself for a moment and swimming in somebody else. Molly didn’t like those moments. He pulled himself up and out of the forest and came blinking back into his dark and empty apartment. 

His breath had not come back to him. It was still not enough to fill him up. Molly tried to push that memory away. He didn’t want to remember that. He didn’t want to remember anything. Still, that creeping feeling of fear stayed with him. Everything was silent. 

Predator. 

The mass of shadow moved slowly at first. It had pulled Caleb back into the only corner of the apartment that he couldn’t see. It was usually shaded and dark, but, when he looked into it, it was pitch black. Molly widened his eyes to their fullest capacity and still saw nothing. He felt the telltale signs of a migraine that accompanied his flashes of memory building in his forehead and still, everything was quiet. 

The shadows shifted, bulged like something was growing inside of them and trying to burst out. The shape of a hand straining against taut shadow came poked through. Sound began to emit from the mass, muffled screams, and curses. There was an explosion of light inside of the inky blackness and then it was extinguished. Magic, firing off in desperate defense, squashed before it could cause any damage. All at once, the internal struggle was over. The shadow swelled and out came Caleb. 

No, not Caleb. 

Something wearing Caleb like a coat. Something inside of Caleb, pulling the strings. He walked on legs that hadn’t felt the motion before. He couldn’t hold his own torso up, so his right shoulder was held back and his left arm hung down and brushed against his knee. Caleb’s head was hanging loosely from his neck like there was no spine at all inside of his skin. His breath wheezed in a wet sound as he labored each breath. Caleb’s eyes were pure black, bleeding some dark liquid like tears. His skin was translucent and tinged blue. The same dark liquid poured from his mouth. His attention focused only on Molly. 

“You...” he breathed, the sound leaving him as though it were escaping through holes in his chest. A bony, terrible finger pointed at Molly. “You...” magic exploded from the hand, but not Caleb’s magic, a wave of bright, black light. It pushed Yasha and Jester and Beau and Fjord back, back, back. They slammed into the wall, cracking the drywall with their combined weight. Molly stayed were he was, though. Not-Caleb stopped in front of him. Molly raised his arm to protect himself out of muscle memory. A thin, too strong hand wrapped around his wrist, but not in the gentle way that Caleb had taken it before. This grip applied too much pressure. Molly could feel Not-Caleb’s fingernails pierce into his skin. He could feel the veins in his wrist shift and strain under the weight. He could feel his heartbeat in his fingers. “You...” Not-Caleb breathed, and he squeezed. The squeeze itself had no real sting, but there was magic behind it. In a swift bought of pressure, Molly’s radius snapped in half. 

White, hot pain wasn’t something that Molly was particularly familiar with, but when it pooled from his arm up to his head, he remembered that, oh, yes, he was. He remembered the cold, damp concrete floor of a warehouse. He was lying on it, almost all of him. He clutched at his thigh and screamed. He screamed, screamed, screamed. There was something broken there, something moving and grating that should not move or grate. The pain was too much for him to see much of anything. This memory was hazy, lacking any kind of detail. All he remembered was the pain. 

As he blinked away the white clouding his vision, he found himself back in his apartment. Caleb had lifted him off the ground by his broken wrist. He was screaming, not just in his memory, but in his actuality. There were fast, hot tears on his cheeks and he was clawing at Caleb’s hand, drawing what should be blood, but was that dark, thick liquid. 

Yasha drew herself from her spot on the wall with great difficulty. Molly’s injury seemed to have stirred her strength. She let out a terrible roar and charged at Caleb. Yasha ’s full weight ripped Caleb from his place and forced him into the ground so hard that the floor cracked and molded around him. Molly fell back onto the floor and crawls backward until he collided with Jester’s feet. Whatever had been holding them to the wall seemed to have released them as soon as Yasha had Caleb pinned, and Jester bent down, wrapped her arms around Molly’s chest, and buried her face in his hair. Molly watched with bleary eyes as Beau took a defensive stance in front of them. 

“Hold him, Yasha!” Fjord shouted. He waved his sword away and his tattoo traveled back up his arm. He dove for the duffle bag and pulled out a container of salt. With Yasah pinning Caleb to the ground, Fjord forced his mouth open and poured as much salt as he could inside. The screech that left Caleb was inhuman. It reverberated across the room and made Molly’s eardrums quiver and protest. The scream seemed to go on forever and ever. 

When it stopped, Caleb went slack. Yasha moved off of him, still close enough to keep him down if she needed to. Caleb was so still he could be dead. 

Molly worried for a moment that he was dead. 

And then he jerked and tried to breathe, but he struggled to get the air in his mouth. Fjord turned him to his side and supported him as Caleb vomited salt and black sludge. Molly sat back into Jester’s hold and tried to breathe. His broken wrist reminded him that it was there. He was still crying. 

Caleb was wiry and too thin. Molly could see his bones through his skin. Fjord checked his pulse and helped him sit up. Yasha regarded him with suspicion. Beauregard bent down in front of Molly and Jester and inspected Molly’s wrist. 

“Shit, dude...” She muttered. She touched his elbow and brushed some of his hair out of his face. “Molly this is broken.” She said. “Like, seriously bad broken.” Jester sniffled and looked over Molly’s shoulder. 

“I have a first aid kit in my room.” She sounded scared. Molly would comfort her if he wasn’t frozen to his spot. Jester shifted and moved away from him. Beau took her place. She rested his head against her chest and helped him support his arm. 

“Yasha,” Beau said, and Molly felt the vibrations of it against his cheek. Yasha knelt down in front of them and cupped Molly’s face in her big hands. She brushed her thumb across his face to wipe away a few of his tears. Molly melted into her comfort. 

“He needs to go to the hospital.” She said. “Caleb probably does too.” 

“Caleb!” There came a scream from the doorway of the apartment. Molly whipped his head to see Nott clutching at her hair and jumping in front of the salt line. Jester followed behind her, clutching the first aid kit to her chest with wide eyes and mouth agape. 

“Jester,” Fjord said, “break the salt line.” She obeyed and Not came rushing into the room in a blur of green and black. She was on Caleb in an instant, fussing over his bruises and clothes. He kept trying to tell her that he was fine, but his voice was blocked in his throat by the salt. He was shaking terribly and she was holding his hands, trying to get him to stay still. 

“Fjord, he needs Caduceus.” Nott hissed up at him. Fjord pressed his lips together and nodded. 

“Alright folks,” Fjord addressed the room, “we’ve got some resources across town that we need to take advantage of. Molly and Caleb can get some help for their injuries and we can decide what to do from here.” 

Nobody said anything. Yasha, Beau, and Jester stared at Nott. 

“Oh, and that’s Nott,” Fjord added. He stood, helped Caleb up, slung Caleb’s arm over his shoulder, and started moving towards the door. Beau sagged under Molly’s weight. She sounded defeated and tired when she spoke.

“What the fuck man?” 

Fjord drove a large, white van with so many dents and scratches that Molly was worried it would fall apart. Everybody loaded into the back of it. He rested against Yasha as she took his wrist for him. Beau and Jester sat shoulder to shoulder next to each other opposite Molly and Yasha. Jester still had the first aid kit in her arms. She noticed the cut on Beau’s cheek and the bruise on her elbow. Jester dutifully applied bright band-aids to her injuries. 

“Yasha,” Beau said after a few minutes. She tossed a purple plaster with flowers on it in their direction. “Your knuckle.” Yasha applied it and smiled smally at Beau. 

Yasha had insured Molly that she was utterly unwilling to be in a relationship at the moment, but Molly could see the beginnings of something from her. It may be down the road a bit, but Yasha liked Beau, and Yasha liked hardly anybody. 

The ride wasn’t very long. They’d spent the late afternoon preparing and the evening locked in their living room with a demon, so they’d bypassed rush hour. Fjord drove silently, Caleb in the passenger seat and Nott standing in between the two. Jester’s whispers weren’t nearly as quiet as she thought they were. 

“What is that?” Nott’s ear twitched. 

“My name is Nott and I am a lady.” Jester blushed deeply and smiled at her. 

“Sorry,” She said. She recovered quickly. “I’m Jester, this is my girlfriend Beau, and Beau’s girlfriend Yasha, and Yasha’s boyfriend Molly.” Yasha ducked her head and Molly laughed despite himself. 

“She’s kidding.” Beau cut in. “She’s been watching too much Parks and Rec.” Nott regarded them carefully. 

“I like you, Jester,” Nott said slowly. “So I’ll give you your buttons back.” Nott reached into her heavy pockets and pulled out handful after handful of buttons. Nott must have pulled them off of every piece of clothing that Jester owned. She dropped them down into Jester’s lap. 

“What the fuck?” Beau said, leaning back from Nott. 

“I don’t like you,” Nott said. “You can’t have yours.” She turned and scuttled back to Caleb. 

Fjord came to a stop and opened the back doors for everybody to climb out. Waiting for them was the ‘Blooming Grove Graveyard For the Penniless and Lost.’ There was row after row of headstones. A shiver ran up Molly’s spine. His careful composure threatened to shatter at the sight of it. 

"You always take me to the nicest places," Molly said to Caleb. He tried for a joke, but it came out bitter and scared. Molly did not like cemeteries. He hated them almost as much as he did hospitals. He had brief flashes of dragging himself from dirt and stumbling out of a clump of headstones. He remembered mostly the ice cold earth, the dirt filling his mouth and throat and eyes. It was dark when he had woken up. Dark like it was now. Molly swallowed down his panic. Yasha placed a large, firm hand on his right shoulder. He breathed the way that Yasha had walked him through. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. He thanked her silently. 

Caleb pushed forward through the cemetery as Nott fussed over his wrist, which was severely bruised already. Molly could see the deep purple and back sprouting out of his sweater sleeve. There were long fingers imprinted on his skin like someone had taken hold of his wrist and controlled him. Something had snuck inside of Caleb's skin and clawed at him and controlled him. Molly might have been the one who was hurt, but he felt protectiveness swell up inside of him. Molly clutched his broken wrist to his chest and watched Caleb's back intensely. 

Caleb walked through the headstones with the confidence of someone who had done it multiple times before. Even with the gravel path that Molly was following, he linked his arm with Yasha's to keep his balance on the uneven dirt. Molly felt completely drained. He felt like some spiritual vampire had latched onto him and sucked everything dry. He could feel his tarot cards burning in his pocket with more energy than he had at the moment. Mollymauk was no stranger to the idea of spiritual energies. His tarot cards and his crystals and his herbs all had different energies, like quiet souls tapping into his. Now that something had ripped all the energy out of his like tear away pants, he felt overpowered and overstimulated by them. His amethyst necklace pulsed with a burning clarity. His tarot cards felt heavy in his pocket. Yasha moved her arm from around his to around his waist. He drooped into her familiar hold. 

Yasha's energy was calming. She grounded him when he needed it. She woke him from nightmares about dirt and hospitals and she took care of him on the days that the headaches all but incapacitated him. Her help, friendship, and support meant the world to him. He only wished that he could support her in the same way. Yasha didn't need his physical company or emotional support. She required different comforts than he did. Her anxiety and trauma were best dealt with alone, and while he understood that, he still longed to be useful. 

Caleb led them through the cemetery for half of a mile before they came upon a little yellow house. It was happy yellow, even in the dark and grim surroundings. It broke up the miles of green and grey around it. Caleb's shoulders seemed to relax when he saw it, and Molly pushed away his worries. Caleb was a protective spirit, and if he saw it okay to relax, then Molly should too. As they approached the little house, Caleb rubbed his hands together and placed them flat in the air. They glowed gold and the light rippled around the house in a dome. Caleb nodded his head. 

"He's been safe, I see." Caleb walked through the barrier with no resistance. Once through, Caleb reached down to the grass below him and lifted his hand, creating and a Nott-sized hole in the barrier. "No shivers?" Caleb asked as she trudged through. 

"Nope." Nott croaked in reply. Caleb smiled fondly and motioned for everyone to follow. They all passed through the golden field one by one. Fjord and Jester moved through it with no hesitation. Beau regarded it with suspicion before passing through without trouble. Yasha led Molly through and he felt a violent shiver run up his back. It felt as though a small shock had jumped between his vertebrae. He shook out his hands and smiled nervously. 

"Weird." He simply said. Caleb did not smile back. He studied Molly intently for a moment. Distrust crept into his eyes. 

"Indeed." He said. 

The House was small considering the amount of land that it could take up. The yellow paint, upon closer inspection, was old and chipping. It had splashes of dirt from the ground up and the wood was soft and worn. The tin roof on top of the house tinked with the occasional drop of rain. There was a nice screened in porch that looked out on the cemetery. Fixed into the front facing wall, there was a large, soft pink door. Molly liked this house. Caleb moved up the porch and kicked off his muddy boots on the front step. Nott followed suit with her trainers, and as Molly bent to unlace his shoes, he was met with the reality that his Jays were completely covered in mud and most likely creased beyond repair. He cursed when he saw them and reached down to scrape the mud off the Nike check. This was one of his favorite pairs too. Yasha hummed with sympathy. 

Molly abandoned his very expensive and very damaged shoes next to Fjord's heavy boots. What was the point anyway? He had a demon in his house, he had complicated feelings for his exorcist, he was edging closer and closer to a panic attack, and his Jays were ruined. He might as well curl up on this stranger's porch and die again. 

Caleb knocked on the pink door three times. He turned around the face the group and Molly caught sight of the ghastly bruise on his neck. Molly's good hand came up to his own in sympathy. Caleb didn't seem to see it. 

"This man will help us," Caleb said to Yasha and Beau. Molly could hear how hoarse his voice was. "he might even be able to help with your demon problem." His eyes moved to Molly when he said that. There was some shuffling behind the door and it creaked open with uncertainty. Molly caught a glimpse of a grey, gaunt face and a shock of bright hair before the door was closed again. He could hear locks being turned and latches snapping out of place. He tried to count them, but they were too many. Finally, the door opened. 

Out came the largest and most beautiful person that Molly had ever seen. They were taller than anybody in their group, even Yasha, and Fjord, who towered over most people. This person was easily pushing seven feet. They were wearing a silky green tunic that billowed around their too-thin chest. Their hair was bright pink and shaved on the sides, making a long, curly mohawk that fell to below their elbows. They pushed their hair out of the way and collected Caleb in a tight hug. 

"Hey, Caleb," they said, bending down to envelope Caleb completely. He laughed hoarsely and patted this stranger's back. Their voice was low, gravely, and Molly felt his panic and pain ease a bit. Their voice was easy on the soul. "You all look terrible." They said as they released Caleb as studied him carefully. Caleb shook his head.

"We need your help, Caduceus, if you're willing to give it." Caleb sounded very tired. They smiled fondly and opened their door. 

"Yeah, yeah sure," Caduceus said, "come on in, I'll put the kettle on." 

Oh, dear; Molly thought. Just what he needed. Another tall, beautiful witch to fuck up his feelings.


	6. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing magic, tea, pink eyes, gardens, and unwanted memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a short one ya'll, but I drop some shit in this. Like, damn. This is hardcore. I'm getting into the meat of it now. The next few chapters are going to be heavy into Molly's background, and if Matt and Taliesin decide to expand on it later and I turn out super wrong, welp, this is an au. Honestly, I'm pretty pumped to get into it. I hope you guys enjoy! As always, you can find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess. Thanks!

Gardens, to the extent of Molly’s knowledge, usually existed outside of a home, with the exception of Yasha’s collection. Caduceus’ existed everywhere. In front of his (he did use he, Molly asked), yellow house were rose bushes, blooming pink and white in the LA summer. They were well groomed and produced fat buds. On his porch were large pots containing ferns and herbs. Little purple and blue flowers grew in a window box. As they entered, Molly was bombarded by hanging vines and ferns. Under a small lamp in his living room were several pots of weed. Molly’s head reminded him of his migraine, and he longed for the painkillers sitting in his bathroom cabinet. Caduceus led Caleb into the kitchen and sat him down at the small table in the corner. Molly leaning against the counter and clutched his arm to his chest. Caduceus put on an electric kettle and pulled down a few mugs. 

 

“I think I only have three more...” He wondered to himself. Caleb smiled a bit fondly. 

 

“We need more healing than tea, Caddy.” Caleb slumped onto the table a bit and wiped a clump of salt from his lips. While he waited for the water to boil, Caduceus knelt down in front of Caleb and cupped his cheeks in his hands. 

 

“You look bad,” Caduceus said softly. 

 

“You’re one to talk, Clay.” Caleb smiled. “You haven’t been eating enough.” Caduceus poked Caleb's ribs. 

 

“Neither have you.” He grumbled. Caleb bent a bit in towards him. 

 

“That’s the magic.” Caduceus pursed his lips and nodded. He stood and tapped the tips of his fingers against his lips. His magic was like Caleb’s but it was swirling, sparkling pink. It played off of his grey skin and caught in his pink eyes. Holy shit, Molly just noticed that Caduceus’ eyes were bright, brilliant pink. He looked like a creature from some other world, from some other place that was too delicate to exist in their plane. He was one of his rosebuds, threatening to crumble if the weather got too cold. Molly wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and make him eat three meals a day. 

 

Caduceus collected his magic on his lips and pressed them gently to Caleb’s forehead. The magic dusted down across Caleb. He relaxed into it leaning into Caduceus’ touch and sighed out in relief. Caduceus leaned back and picked a piece of glass out of Caleb’s hair. 

 

“Now that’s not quite right.” Caduceus leaned in closer to Caleb and inspected his face closer. He took stock of Caleb’s features and ran his hands up and down Caleb’s torso. “Something is all over your aura.” Caduceus crawled towards sounding concerned, which didn’t fit well with his established nature. Caleb sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

 

“A demon.” He said. 

 

“A  _ demon?”  _ Caduceus responded. His voice raised a few octaves. He wrapped his hands around Caleb’s shoulders. His face was creased in worry. “We don’t mess with those things anymore.” Caduceus had lowered his voice and was looking very intensely into Caleb’s eyes. “Not since Fjord found his way to us.” Caleb nodded and placed his hands on top of Caduceus’. 

 

“I know, and we can talk more about this,” he sounded so very, very tired, “but first my friends need healing.” Caduceus turned as the kettle started screaming and poured three cups and sprinkled tea leaves into them. 

 

Caduceus approached Molly tea first, offering him a steaming mug and inspecting him calmly wi9th scrutinous eyes. Yasha stood dutifully to Molly’s left, unwilling to leave him alone for even a moment. 

 

“What seems to be the problem here, Molly?” Caduceus was careful to ask each of them their names and pronounce them correctly before he moved on to the next. He said that he didn’t want anybody to feel as though they were appreciated in his home and that he was just awful at pronouncing and remembering names, so he had to take extra time to do it. It had taken him a few tries to get Mollymauk Tealeaf right, but only when it was perfect did he start saying ‘Molly.’ 

 

“Well, my wrist is broken, Mr. Clay.” Molly rubbed his eyes with his good hand and tried to blink away his headache. Caduceus gingerly picked up Molly’s arm and inspected the break carefully. He hummed and ran the tips of his fingers across Molly’s dark and scarred skin. 

 

“I like your tattoos,” Caduceus said softly. He smiled warmly and met Molly’s eye. He brushed the head of the snake on Molly’s broken hand with his thumb. “Tell me about this one?” 

 

“Well,” Molly began, “I actually got th-” he was cut off when Caduceus very suddenly shifted his bone back into place and began to spread warm, soothing magic through Molly’s arm. He cried out shortly and caught Caduceus’ shoulder for support as he fought to get his breathing under control. 

 

“Sorry,” Caduceus said, “it’s better if you’re not expecting it.” 

 

“Really now?” Molly swallowed the bile rising in his throat and watched Caduceus’ steady movements. His magic spread across Molly’s arm and mended the bruising and eased the pain from his skin. Caduceus’ magic felt like a heating pad, massaging the hurt away. Molly felt sleepy and satisfied and so, so safe...

 

“Whoa, there,” Caduceus muttered, wrapping an arm around Molly’s waist. Molly realized that his knees had turned to jelly and he was leaning exclusively into Caduceus. He was warm and welcome and Molly saw no reason why he shouldn’t fall asleep in his strange, tall man’s arms. “Sorry, I should have mentioned,” Molly got the sense that Caduceus wasn’t talking to him, and the familiar feeling of Yasha’s hands on his back confirmed it. “Sometimes healing can make people tired. He should be totally fine.” Molly could hear the smile in his deep voice. 

 

“I’ve got him.” Molly felt Caduceus retreat and fell back into Yasha’s arms. He felt himself lifted up and carried somewhere. He fell asleep to the slow up and down of Yasha’s long strides. 

 

__

 

_ Molly was something and somewhere and someone else. His hands were weird, too thin and missing snakes and flowers. His fingernails were plain and bitten short. His fingers were free of rings and his wrist had no bracelets. His legs were wrong too, clad in a pair of army green cargo pants, nothing tight or bright or loud. His left leg wasn’t perpetually bent forward, stiff at the knee and unwilling to move properly. His feet were covered in a pair of well-worn boots, meant for work. The kind of work that Molly couldn’t do.  _

 

_ And then, of course, Mollymauk wasn’t his name. Not the right one. He was Lucien. He was and always had been Lucien.  _

 

_ Midnight, deep in the woods of upstate New York, just inside of the gates of a large cemetery. Two soldiers, converged by an oak. Lucien and Cree, with printed out copies of runes and beeswax candles in a backpack by their feet. They stood, shifting in their layers, bouncing on their toes to try and fight off the cold. Lucien ran his flashlight across the headstones and then into the trees behind them. He sighed and checked his phone. 12:02. She was late.  _

 

_ Of course, she was. She was always late, even when time was the most important of factors.  _

 

_ Lucien sighed and tugged open the backpack.  _

 

_ “We’re starting without her.” Lucien finally said, irritated but determined.  _

 

_ “We can’t, it takes three.” Cree retorted. “Besides, she’s the one who wanted to do it in the first place.” She ran her fingers through the ends of her long hair, a nervous tick she’d picked up recently. Lucien dug little holes in the ground and planted the five candles into a circle. He plucked out the yellow folder and placed the rune and Jupiter Square into the circle, setting pebbles onto the sheets to keep them from blowing away.  _

 

_ “Hand me the lighter,” Lucien said. Cree wrestled with the bag, digging to find it somewhere at the bottom, but before she could, something clicked and yellow light cast itself across them in stark contrast to the hard white of their flashlights.  _

 

_ “Please, use mine.” Ivantika's voice rang clearly to Lucien’s left. He was surprised, but didn’t jump, just clenched his jaw and sucked in a breath through his nose. She slinked around him and trailed her fingernails across his shoulders. She bent down and lit the candles, making a show for them. Cree sighed and nudged his arm with her elbow. He looked at her through the corner of his eye and they shared a moment of disbelief before getting back on task.  _

_ “You’re late,” Lucien said despite herself. Ivantika snorted as Lucien pulled his father’s pocket knife out of his back pocket, holding the handle out to Cree. She drew the blade through both of her palms. Lucien did the same and passed the knife to Ivantika. The two of them joined hands  _

 

_ “What else is new, beautiful?” Ivantika snickered.  _

_ “If you two are done, I think there’s a demon waiting for us.” Cree took Lucien’s other hand. They stood in their three-pointed circle, heads bowed, breaths quiet and quick. Ivantika started it.  _

 

_ “For I evoke thee, Nonagon.” She said softly, and then repeated it, and then again. Nine times, she said the phrase, her voice strong and without waver. When she finished the last rephrase, she glanced at Cree, who picked it up from there.  _

 

_ “For I conjure thee, Nonagon.” Cree chanted eleven times, squeezing Lucien’s hand tightly.  _

 

_ “Come to me, Nonagon,” Lucien said. After the name left his lips for the twelfth time, a flash of lightning filled the darkness for a split second, and the three almost broke their circle in surprise. If Ivantika hadn’t clamped down on both of their hands, squeezing their knuckles together until they hurt, they would have broken apart. Cree yelped when the thunder followed a few seconds later.  _

 

_ The ground broke open slowly like a plant was peaking out of the grass. Then, smoke. Terrible, billowing smoke pouring out of the wound in the ground. Cree gripped Lucien’s hand tighter. Ivantika laughed like a maniac.  _

 

_ The smoke billowed up and formed the shape of a man, much too tall and slender. The lightning struck again and showed the opaque skeleton of the translucent smoke. Lucien’s heart stopped in his chest.  _

 

_ The smoke regarded each of them in turn, first Ivantika, then Cree, then Lucien. It stopped when it saw him. A smile seemed to split its face in half.  _

 

_ “ **You...** ”  Nonagon breathed.  _

 

_ The smoke wrapped around his chest and pulled him into the ground.  _

 

__

 

Molly woke up screaming and knowing what he used to be. 


	7. What Lies Beneath the Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ear-splitting sounds, armorments, flashbacks, and zombies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me say this first thing; THERE IS SOME GROSS SHIT THIS CHAPTER. This chapter the gang is in a fight and while I don't go into super deep detail, I do talk about blood and guts. If you don't like that, please don't read. Also, there's the type of cutting that Molly did in the show this chapter and perceivably in future chapters. That part is only one paragraph, so you can pretty safely skip over it. Make sure that you're safe and don't read anything that you know will upset you. 
> 
> Also, ya girl is in the middle of a hurricane, so idk when a new chapter will be out next. I know that the hurricane should be over by Thursday, so probably by Saturday, but that depends completely on if I get evacuated or not. The place to look for updates on that is my tumblr, gayshitiguess. 
> 
> Also, I made a plalist for this story, particularly Caleb and Molly. You can listen to it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2R1RZOeSgcVCDbDPkLRPqG
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Yasha had his hand in hers while Caleb and Caduceus took stock of Molly’s mind. Gold and pink magic swelled and poked around his head. Molly felt hot, anxious, and uncomfortable. He slumped into Caduceus’ couch as he was steadily recounting his dream.

“We were summoning something called Nonagon.” Caleb’s movements froze for a moment before he started up again. There was stark recognition in his features. Yasha squeezed his hand and rubbed little circles on his knuckle with her thumb. “Some woman named Ivantika was there.” There was a crash from the kitchen, something shattering on the tile floor. Fjord came so quickly onto the living room that he almost slid and fell on his ass, forgetting that he was only wearing socks.

“Did you say Ivantika?” Fjord’s voice couldn’t decide to be loud or quiet, curious or horrified. He had lost his charming southern accent in his panic. Molly nodded from the couch. “Jesus Christ.” Fjord ran his hands through his short hair and leaned back against the wall.

“Is that-” Caleb started.

“Part of my shit?” Fjord interrupted. “That’s actually my whole shit.” Caleb’s magic fizzled out from around Molly. He motioned for Fjord to follow him and made his way to the porch. Caduceus sighed and waved his magic away.

“You’re alright.” He said quietly. “By that, I mean that there’s nothing physically wrong with you. Of course, not all damage is done to the body.” Caduceus shrugged and smiled at him. Yasha shifted and rubbed at a bruise on her forearm. Caduceus eyed the dark mark and kneeled down in front of her.

“Caleb said your name is Yasha.” Caduceus’ voice was low and careful. Yasha’s eyes searched him for any sign of danger. “I see you’re a bit scratched up, there.” Caduceus rubbed his fingers together and raised his eyebrows. Yasha nodded slowly. Caduceus poked Yasha on the nose and whispered; “boop.”

Yasha blinked a few times as the magic spread over her and healed her cuts and bruises. Caduceus smiled calmly and turned to go back into the kitchen. Molly rested his head on Yasha’s shoulder.

“He’s so weird,” Yasha whispered. Molly smiled into her shirt.

“He’s so cute.” Molly corrected. She laughed quietly and ran her fingers through Molly’s hair.

“How’s your head?” She asked softly. Molly hummed and rubbed his eyes.

“Not as bad as the first time.” He replied. Yasha braided a few pieces of Molly’s hair. The first time he'd had a lapse in his memory, Yasha had had to take him to the hospital. His headaches had gotten steadily less terrible over time, but that didn't make this one a walk in the park.

“You’ve never had anything that detailed,” Yasha said after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“I got a name.” His voice was hollow and tired.

“You can ignore it,” Yasha said. “You’ve said that you don’t want to know anything, so you can ignore it if you want.”

Molly didn’t know how to explain to her that even if he chose to push all of this down, he could never ignore it. It would be somewhere in the back of his head all the time. He would have to either live with this hiding somewhere in the background, or he would have to reconcile what he was now and what he used to be. Molly couldn’t explain to Yasha what it felt like to have his carefully constructed understood self slowly torn apart. Molly didn’t want to think about him. Molly didn’t care about Lucien. He wasn’t around anymore, why should Molly have to deal with him?

There came a sharp, high noise from somewhere in the house, like the ringing of a very small, very loud bell. The octave was too high to ignore. It festered into Molly’s ears and dug around in his head. He clapped his hands over his ears as Yasha caught his shoulder, her face scrunched up in pain.

All at once, as soon as the noise came, it stopped. In place of the ringing, there was the popping of Molly ears and Caleb’s voice, yelling into the house.

“Caddy!” He yelled. “There’s a lot of them!” Caduceus moved across his home very quickly, a blur of green and pink. Molly followed, reaching the door with Yasha on his tail.

At first, all he saw was the one. An older gentleman, his hair short, falling out, and white. His skin was ashy and he was wearing a disheveled grey suit. There was a dead carnation pinned to the lapel. He was covered in dirt. For some reason, Molly assumed that this man must have fallen in an open grave. That made the most sense. And then he saw the man pounding on the golden barrier that Caleb had set up. It crackled and sparked with energy every time his hands connected. The skin on the man's face wasn’t quite right. Even from his distance, Molly could see how it stretched badly across his skeleton on the left side, showing a bit of muscle around the eye, and dripped like puddy on the right side. He looked like a cross between Mitch Mcconnell and the bug alien from _Men In Black._ One of his fingers was missing.

As soon as Caduceus saw him, he let out a yelp, about three octaves above his natural voice, shot his hand out with pink energy, and tossed the man back about three yards. The man stumbled to his feet, dragged himself back to the barrier, and started pounding again. Caduceus disappeared into his house. Molly looked to his left and saw a woman in her forties, grey streaked through her disheveled red hair. She was wearing a fine black dress that was torn on the shoulder. She was moaning loudly as she broke her hands against the dome. A few feet right of her was a little girl, no older than eleven, who must have died of some kind of illness.

That much was clear to Molly. These people were all dead.

He very suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Everybody inside,” Caleb said. “Fjord, arm them.” He rubbed his hands together and strapped on his fancy brown shoes. Fjord gently grabbed Molly shoulder and lead him inside. Beau and Jester were in the living room, talking quickly with Caduceus, who had strapped on some type of armor and was tying up his hair. Once he was done, he grabbed a large, wooden staff from the couch and pushed past Molly to get out the door. Fjord retrieved the duffle bag from the kitchen and plopped it on the floor. First, he pulled out a leather chest plate and tossed it to Yasha. She strapped it on with some hesitation and gently rapped her knuckles against it. He slid on a chest plate himself and tossed a pair of bracers and some finger tape to Beau.

“You’re good at boxing, right?” He asked. His accent was back.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Beau replied. She tapped up her fingers and strapped on the bracers.

“Good. Those’ll help you punch ghosts if there are any.” Beau seemed absolutely delighted by this prospect. “With the zombies, don’t hold back. I’d say go for the temples. Killing blows are your friend.” He shoved his arms into the duffle bag, much farther than it should be able to fit, and pulled out a long wooden bo staff. Beau took it and tossed it between her hands experimentally.

“There are zombies?” She asked after a second of thinking.

“Nott!” Fjord called. She came cautiously out of the kitchen. Fjord pulled a very small, green rain jacket out of the bag. Nott slipped it on and Fjord zipped it to her chin. As soon as the zipper met the top, she seemed to fuzz a bit around the corners, a bit displaced from where she should be. It hurt Molly’s eyes to look at her. She pulled what Molly thought was a crossbow from the bag and notched an arrow, several others tucked into her belt, her socks, her hair. Fjord offered his fist and she bumped it with hers.

“Don’t get dead.” She said softly as she left the room.

“You too,” Fjord called back. Molly felt a little warm inside at the familiarity. Fjord dug around a bit as he talked to Jester. “Do you know how to fight?” Jester laughed a bit.

“I’m a really good fighter.” She said, beaming. “My mom made me learn. Do you have an ax? I’m really good with axes.” Fjord froze for a second, his eyes shining with either fear or impress. He produced a large hand ax and a shield. Jester secured the shield on her right arm and tested the ax with her left. Fjord reached inside and pulled out a very large sword. He couldn’t balance it right and it handled awkwardly. Yasah stepped forward and relieved him of it. Fjord smiled at her.

“Molly?” Fjord asked. “You good with anything?”

“Swords,” Molly said without thinking. “I have some swords in my room.” Fjord nodded and pushed the bag away. He clapped his hands together and, between his hands, created a black circle of cracking energy. Molly took a step back. Fjord reached inside and came back with Molly’s swords in hand. Molly’s heart jumped to his throat.

“These are...” Fjord took a moment to look them over. “Molly, these are a bloodhunter’s swords.” He looked a bit taken aback.

“What-” Molly began to ask, but Fjord shook his head.

“There’s no time, you’ve got to draw blood to get to the magic. Cut your arm with them and get to chopping.” Fjord stood and rolled up his sleeve. This time, being so up close, Molly could see the tattoo moving across his skin in detail. He paid close attention to the black move against Fjord’s dark brown. It was almost beautiful. That is until he saw the blade of Fjord’s sword actually protrude from Fjord wrist. It cut through his skin and extended itself to the hilt, landing in Fjord’s hand. The hilt looked like bone and cartilage. A literal extension of himself. The cut disappeared as soon as the sword was in his hand. Fjord grimaced and rolled his sleeve down. “Alright, ground rules.” Fjord said. “No _Walking Dead_ shit, these things don’t spread. They can bite you and scratch you all they like, they won’t turn you into zombies. You don’t have to get their heads to kill them, but it's faster that way. If you get in too deep, you back out. Y'all are fighters, but you’ve never done something like this before. You get hit, you get the fuck out of dodge. Caleb, Caduceus, Nott and me have been doing this for years. We can cover while you get yourself together. Last rule: Don’t get dead. We don’t like burying our own.” With that, he turned and walked to the door.

Molly looked down at his swords. They’d been crossed over his chest when he woke up underground. He’d used them as shovels when he was crawling up out of the ground. They must have been Lucien’s. He banished the thought as soon as it came into his head. These were his swords. This was his body. He twirled them as the girls followed Fjord to the door. Yasha waited for him, but he nodded, urging her out.

He took the one in his right hand, a light yellow, silk cloth tied around the hilt, and dragged it across his left forearm. There was a cluster of scars there, ones he didn’t remember getting but could suddenly contextualize. He had scars all over his body. His neck, his back, his chest, his stomach. His arms. Mostly his arms. Molly drew the one in his left hand, covered in a dark blue silk cloth, across his right forearm. Blood covered each sword from hilt to tip. Nothing happened for a moment. He wondered if he’d just hurt himself for absolutely no reason. Then, light. Brilliant, beautiful light erupted from the blades. Ice inched up the blades and they shone brightly in the darkened room. Molly laughed in disbelief and twirled them around again.

There was a burst of pink light from the front yard. Molly remembered his friends.

The scene outside of the house was a war zone. Caleb’s barrier hadn’t held. There were thirty-odd zombies crowding closer and closer to the house. Caleb’s magic had left behind patches of burnt grass, still sizzling with embers. Caleb was tangled with the old man, a large chunk taken from his shoulder. He had the man pinned and wrapped with his golden magic. Fire crackled on his hands. He buried his fist into the man’s mouth, burning him from the inside out. Something shifted to Molly’s left and he turned to see a woman biting for his face. He didn’t have enough time to react. Before she could tear his face off, something caught her right between the eyes and sent her falling back with momentum. Molly whipped his head around to see Nott, crossbow still pointed in his direction. She smiled widely before she disappeared from view. A few feet away, a zombie fell right before it caught Yasha from behind. There was a mass of green on top of it, clawing viciously at its eyes. Yasha had her sword buried deeply into a woman in her eighties, her hands clamped around the neck of a middle-aged man. She yelled loudly as she tore the two apart. She threw the two corpses away from her and she clotheslined a particularly fast one before it reached Beauregard. Beau had one pinned to the ground, her knee to his chest, his face all but gone. She kept punching it until it stopped moving. She stood and shook her hands out before turned to one of the two that had circled Jester. Jester swung around and buried her ax deep into the side of the other. She pulled it out again with some resistance and tossed it. It landed a few feet short of one of the several bunched around Caduceus. He was collecting a large ball of energy in his hands. As it got too big for him to contain, he shoved it harshly into the ground. Pink magic spread through the ground and tossed all of the zombies around him back. He grabbed Jester’s ax and tossed it back to her, embedding it into the back of a little boy. Fjord stood a few yards out into the graveyard, a large circle of darkness around him. From that circle, there rose a spatter of tentacles. They rose from the black hole and grabbed zombies before they could reach Fjord. The few that did were sliced in pieces with sprays of seawater.

Molly took in a deep breath and got to chopping.

He carved through the torso of an old woman and turned to stab into a teenage boy. As he turned, his knee reminded him that it wasn’t well suited for this kind of thing. It gave out and he met the ground harshly with the two corpses. Caduceus perked up at the sight of this. He pursed his lips, shot a zombie back a few feet, and cast a line of pink energy towards Molly. It hit him right in the middle of his chest. He took in a huge breath, and then, very suddenly, he felt amazing. Molly felt so good. He felt like he was jumped up on caffeine and painkillers at the same time. He laughed highly and took off from the ground. His knee didn’t bother him. His lungs didn’t protest. He moved around the yard faster than he should be able to, and he sliced through zombies with ease and efficiency.

With all eight of them working together, they carved through the corpses quickly. Molly worked fast and with familiarity. He felt natural, wielding his swords this way. They used to be used for circus tricks, to impress children with how easily he could juggle them and toss them into the air without being cut. But this was how he was meant to use them. Muscle memory was strange for Molly. He didn’t always know he could do something until he did. One time, he sat down at a piano and started playing unprompted. He hadn’t ever touched one before, but Moonlight Sonata left his hands like it was second nature. He didn’t always know it, but there were certain things that his body was made to do. Finding out about them was amazing and terrifying and gave him panic attacks. His speed began to wear off. His knee began to throb. His chest ached with his lungs’ effort.

“Molly!” Caleb called out. Before Molly could turn around, a ball of fire burst past him. It brushed his shoulder and singed his shirt but left his skin untouched. Molly turned to see a zombie tossed backward, its head burned out. Molly whipped around to meet Caleb’s eye.

His bright, blue eyes were sunken, dark, and glazed over. Caleb seemed to be frozen where he was. His arm slumped from its extended place to Caleb’s side, swinging slightly. He exhaled and dropped to his knees. He seemed lost somewhere else. Molly might not know much about demons and ghosts and shit, but he knew a flashback when he saw one. Molly kicked out the flames, dropped his swords, and rushed to Caleb’s side.

He tried not to touch him too much, just what he had to to keep Caleb upright. He patted Caleb’s cheek gently.

“Come on, Caleb, come back to us.” He muttered softly.

“Slap him!” Molly heard Nott’s voice somewhere in the background. His brow creased.

“That won’t be necessary, will it, Caleb?” He patted his cheek again. Caleb’s hand came to rest on Molly’s arm. His fingers were hot and covered in ash. Molly didn’t mind.

Caleb came back to himself slowly. By the time that he blinked away the nightmare, Caduceus and Fjord were collecting the bodies together and laying them out in a line. Caleb was breathing heavily and crying silently.

“Mollymauk...” he whispered out. His body sagged into itself. Molly smiled softly.

“Back to work, yeah?” He said. Caleb nodded. Molly cupped his cheeks in his hands and kissed Caleb’s forehead. “Time for that later.” Caleb wiped his face with his hands and smiled shyly at Molly. He stood with Molly’s help and cupped the bite mark on his shoulder. Caduceus took a break from seeing to the bodies to heal the wound. Molly found his way over to Yasha and took her up in a great hug. Something poked his leg. Nott had a bunch of crossbow bolts in her hands and was cleaning the blood and guts from them.

“Break his heart and I’ll break you.” She said. She disappeared before Molly could respond.

“Everybody okay?” Caduceus called, bent over one of the corpses. “Nobody hurt?”

“What did you do to me?” Molly asked as he disentangled from Yasha’s arms. “I feel like shit.” Caduceus nodded.

“Yeah, it does that.” He said, solemnly. “It’s a spell that makes you faster and stronger, but when you come down from it, you feel real bad. I’ll make you some tea once we take care of these poor folks.” He traced his finger across an old woman’s forehead in the shape of a cross. Molly sighed and sat down in the grass.

“These can’t be from here,” Caleb called, surveying the graves around them. Caduceus nodded.

“I wouldn’t let this sort of thing happen in my graveyard.” He said. He waved his hands over the bodies, pink magic dusting down around them.

“You know what this means, though.” Fjord said. Nott appeared next to him and nodded.

“What does it mean?” Jester asked, hesitantly.

“Lich.” Caleb said. He rubbed his eyes. “It means we have a lich.”


	8. Omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proper burials, weed, fairies, relationship statuses, and wet dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I survived the hurricane! My power has been out for about 48 hours, but it literally just came back on. I've been converting what I had written on the notes app on my phone to google docs, and here I am posting! Even though my town wasn't hit too hard, there are a lot of people who are in dire need after this hurricane. If you can, please consider donating to the relief funds. Here are a few links letting you know how you can help;
> 
> https://www.nola.com/hurricane/index.ssf/2018/10/here_are_ways_to_help_the_vict.html
> 
> Thank you guys for reading! A slightly shorter and chiller chapter, watch these two losers try and fail to flirt. As always, you can find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess.

As soon as Caduceus had finished giving rights to the bodies of the zombies, he drove a small knife through the base of their skulls to make sure that they were dead, and went to go get a shovel. Yasha stuck with him and helped carry the bodies several yards behind the house. Yasha had been a soldier, she had carried bodies before. She tossed the body of an old woman over her shoulder and went to pick up another before Caduceus stopped her. 

“Whoa, now, slow down!” He gently took the older woman from Yasha’s shoulder. “I know it's sometimes hard to see, but they’re still people. Nobody seems to think so when they starting stinking, but I try and see it that way.” Yasha was careful as she cradled a mostly skin and bone man in her arms. Caduceus called Jester over to help and started walking the bodies one by one to a clearing behind the house. Molly carried the shovel for him. 

Caduceus got to work digging thirty-odd graves in the open area. Molly sat down in the thick, green grass and rubbed his knee between his hands. Yasha patted his shoulder as she and Jester went to get more shovels. Molly watched as Caduceus worked. 

“So this is your cemetery?” Molly asked. 

“Graveyard,” Caduceus answered. 

“Sorry?” Molly said. 

“It’s okay. Graveyards have attendants, usually churches on the premises. Cemeteries are just the bodies. I look after the dead and protect them from the kind of magic that tormented these poor people.” Caduceus took a break from digging and sat down next to Molly. 

“Like that dome? The thing that Caleb set up?” Molly asked. 

“Yeah, kind of,” Caduceus said. “I mean, I’ve been here for much, much longer than Caleb’s been around. I’ve got stuff like that all around this place, Caleb just wanted to put something up to keep me safe.” Molly nodded. 

“How much longer have you been around?” Molly asked. 

“What year is it? I’ve stopped counting.” 

Molly swallowed and fingered his tarot cards. He pulled three from his pocket blindly. The Fool, the Devil, and Death. Caduceus must have noticed his exasperation. 

“That’s not a bad hand.” He said, looking in over Molly’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, but it's all I can seem to draw.” Molly took out his deck and shuffled them back in. He spread them in his lap, closed his eyes, and drew the same three cards again. Caduceus hummed. 

“Well,” he said softly, “Maybe they just want you to be safe. They’re just trying to warn you. I’d listen to them.” Molly sighed and put his cards away. 

“I’ve been trying to, my friend, but I just can’t seem to read them like I used to.” 

Caduceus hummed in sympathy. 

“You’re new, that’s for sure.” He said. Molly shot him a look. “I just mean that you remind me of a baby plant, just shooting up from the ground. You’re a baby plant. That explains the Fool.” Molly wanted to protest but couldn’t. “And the Devil is referring to your whole thing for Caleb.” 

“Hold on, big guy,” Molly tried to defend himself. 

 

“No, it's okay,” Caduceus assured him. “And let me tell you, from personal experience; he’s just as much trouble as the cards are saying, but he is worth it. He’s worth every bit of it.” 

Yasha and Jester returned, two more shovels in tow. Jester notices Molly’s knee. 

“Molly, you should take some medicine if you’re hurting.” She said, nonchalantly. It wasn’t unusual for Molly to be in pain in some capacity. It was when the girls could see it on him that he needed to take one of his very effective painkillers. They were always gracious and careful about recommending it to him, but he always followed their advice. 

“No can do, gorgeous,” Molly said. “They’re in my bathroom in the haunted apartment.” Jester sighed and sat down next to him. She shed her light blue bomber jacket and wrapped it around him. He kissed her cheek. 

“Do you smoke?” Caduceus called, not looking up from the grave he was digging. 

“Yeah,” Molly replied. 

“Top shelf in the kitchen. The good stuff's in the purple container. There should be some papers in there too.” 

Molly stood and kissed the top of Caduceus’ head before he trudged back to the house. 

Fjord was passed out on the couch when he entered the living room. Beau looked up when he came in, her right eye starting to swell with a bruise. Molly grimaced on her behalf and bumped his elbow with hers, not wanting to bother her scrapped and broken knuckles. She smiled widely at him and pinched his good leg. 

“Take something.” She said. He nodded and kept moving to the kitchen. It was right where Caduceus said it would be. Molly carefully rolled a generous blunt and flicked his lighter. It wasn’t instantaneous relief, but it was close enough. 

Caleb entered the kitchen and saw Molly smoking. He looked a bit awkward for a second and then turned to leave. 

“Oh, no, hey,” he said, “it’s fine, you don’t have to leave. Light up, if you want to.” Caleb shook his head and pointed at the kettle. He filled it, turned it on, and sat down at the table. Molly jumped up and sat on the counter. Caleb looked hollow and frail, gaunt in his matter and slow in his movements. 

“So, a lich,” Molly said. He ran his hands through the length of his hair. Caleb watched him carefully. “What brings about that kind of thing?” Caleb thought for a moment. 

“Liches are magic users who decided to defy the natural order of things and try and work around death. While its true that our lifespans are lengthened, we are not immortal. To try and be so is insane. They are harbingers of death and chaos. And Nonagon is their favorite demon.” Caleb explained. 

“Nonagon, like my dream Nonagon,” Molly asked. 

“Nonagon, like the demon that possessed me and tried to kill you, Nonagon.” Caleb supplied. 

“Oh,” Molly said, “yeah, no, he’s bad.” Caleb nodded. “So he brings about liches, and liches bring about zombies and ghosts and shit.” Caleb hummed in response. “So why us? I mean, I’m sure half of the people in LA have been possessed at one point, why would this dude get so fixated on us?” Caleb considered. 

“Well,” he said finally, “there’s you, the mysterious amnesiac with some past involving the patron saint of necromancy.” Molly laughed a bit. The kettle screamed and Caleb stood to make himself a cup. “There’s me, the damaged mage with mental illness coming out of his ears. Fjord has a history with demons, as you’ve seen.” Molly nodded.

“His whole hentai thing, yeah.” Caleb cocked his head in confusion. 

“There’s Nott, and plenty of people have tried to hunt her down over the years.” He counted them all out on his fingers. 

“What is Nott, exactly?” Molly said, “If you don’t mind me asking.” He added on. Caleb sipped his tea. 

“Well, Nott, do you mind?” There was no response, so Caleb nodded. “She’s a magical abomination. That’s the best term we’ve found for her.”

“Harsh,” Molly commented. 

“Accurate,” Caleb corrected. “She was a young girl in the early 1800’s.” Molly choked on a mouthful of smoke. “She was ill and her family asked a doctor to help her. This man was not a good one. He was a magician, a mage quite like me. He was interested in Frankensteinian experiments. There is a creature that, hopefully, you’ll never have to meet, called a goblin. They are, generally speaking, terrible creatures, but they have an amazing ability to regenerate their cells. This mage believed that he could heal people using their DNA. His magic and samples were unstable, and, while he did heal her of her sickness, he also turned her into what she is now. She stopped getting sick, stopped getting hurt for very long, stopped aging. She is several hundred years old. She spent a very long time hating what she was, but I think that she has felt at home with me. I hope she has.” Molly tried to process this information. 

“So there’s Nott...” he said. Caleb smiled. 

“So there’s Nott,” he continued, “and there’s Caduceus, who I’m not sure I can describe to you.”

“Well, he’s a mage like you, right?” Molly asked. 

“No,” Caleb said. “He is...” Caleb sighed and tried to find the right words. “He’s a creature of somewhere else. I’m not sure exactly where. He calls it only ‘home.’ If I had to put a name to it, I would call him a fairy.” Molly smiled. 

“He’s pretty big to be a fairy,” Molly said. Caleb laughed a bit. 

“He is something special, Caduceus.” He smiled thinking about it. 

“You two are close,” Molly noted. Caleb’s smile grew. 

“We were together for some time.” He said. Molly’s heart beat a bit faster. 

“But not anymore?” Molly asked. Caleb shook his head, but he didn’t seem to want to say anything more on the subject. Moll took the cue to move on. “So there’s you, me, Fjord, Nott, Caduceus...” 

“The longer I spend with Jester, the more convinced I am that she is some kind of trickster being,” Caleb whispered. “I saw her switching Caduceus’ salt and sugar a few minutes ago. She changed all of the labels on his spice rack. She is devious!” Molly doubled over in laughter. He caught himself on the counter and tried to catch his breath. Caleb’s laugh was dry and genuine. Molly loved it. 

“You have no idea how validating that is!” Molly laughed. “I’ve thought she was a chaos god for years! Finally, someone understands me!” They laughed for a long while. “You know we’re fucked when Beau is the normal one!” Molly added, bring about a whole new laughing fit. Caleb pulled himself together and rubbed his sides where they hurt. 

“And that’s not mentioning Yasha.” He added. 

“What’s there to mention about Yasha?” Molly said, wiping his eyes. 

“Well, I can read auras in the way that I did yours,” Caleb said, “Or in a much milder way. Sometimes just being around people is enough. Yasha has a very powerful aura that has been touched by something unnatural, but not demonic. Something divine.” 

“Are you saying that my best friend is an angel?” Molly smiled. “Because I agree, she’s amazing.” Caleb smiled in a soft way. 

“I mean that something divine has intervened in her life. Something is helping her along the way. With gods, there’s no way to tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.” Caleb explained. 

Molly turned it around in his head for a while. Yasha hadn’t told him much about her time in the military, just that she’d had a few too many near-death experiences and that she was discharged when they found out she was transgender. She’d done freelance security after that and had somehow gotten tied up in the circus. It took her a few months of being best friends for her to tell him that he was her soulmate and that no matter where she went, she would find him again. She’d never gone back on that. Molly found himself in love with lots of different soul mates, but Yasha was the truest of them. Molly could see them in forty years, married for tax purposes, living in a cabin in the woods of the pacific northwest. She was his only true feeling of safety, and he was her only constant. It was a few months ago after a night riddled with flashbacks and bad dreams that Yasha had let herself be wrapped up in his arms. When she thought he was asleep, she whispered into his hands; “Do not go far from me.” 

“I think you should tell Yasha that,” Molly said. “I don’t think she trusts you yet.” Caleb laughed bitterly.

“For good reason.” He said. Molly didn’t like the way that Caleb talked about himself. 

“Well, mostly I think it’s that she doesn’t trust people I’m in to.” He tried to sound nonchalant. Caleb blushed and shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Something about my reckless judgment.” He tacked on. Caleb looked like he’d been stricken. Molly sometimes forgot how uncharismatic he was. A result of his only being two-years-old with no social skills to speak of. 

“Mollymauk,” Caleb said softly. “I want you to know that I have a lot of problems.” Caleb waved his hand around his head generally. “And I’m not good a lot of the time. I’ve been worse, I’ve been much, much worse, but a lot of the time I am mean and depressed and not a good person.” Molly wanted to protest, but he knew that Caleb needed to talk. “And I used to back out of relationships because I thought that it would be bad for the other person. That’s why I left Caduceus. I thought that I would harm him in some way. Through proximity. But I’m getting better and I know that because I can say that being in a relationship would be bad for me. It would be damaging for me. I can say that, and maybe, in the future, I will be able to do something, but I can’t now.” He seemed to finish. Molly smiled fondly. 

“Caleb, that’s rough shit.” He said awkwardly. “And being able to get that out is a lot. Being able to say that means progress. There’s nothing more unattractive to me than knowing that something that I’m doing is hurting a potential partner. That’s the world’s biggest turn-off. I would never, ever want to make you uncomfortable. So, until the magical moment when time syncs up and our worlds fit well together, I will find you wholly unattractive.” Caleb smiled and scratched his eyebrow. 

“I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Mollymauk,” Caleb said. 

“I know you will, Mr. Caleb,” Molly said. 

Molly had finished his smoke. He felt fuzzy around the edges. His headache was gone and his knee had quieted down. He smiled at Caleb and Caleb smiled at him. 

From the other room, there came a terrible, wet gasp, and a bang as something hit the ground in a heap. Molly heard Beau scream;

“Holy shit!” Followed by labored and broken coughs. Caleb moved before Molly could get down from the counter. When he rounded the corner to the living room, Molly was met with Fjord, face down on the carpet, holding himself up on his elbows, coughing water out of his lungs. Beau was kneeling next to him, patting his back and sort of yelling in distress. 

“Fjord?” Caleb asked as he sat on the couch and helped Fjord sit up. “What was it this time?” Fjord took a few moments to breath uninhibited. 

“A warning.” Fjord said. “He’s warning me.” His accent was missing. Molly sat down on the floor next to Beau and wrapped a hand around her bicep. Her fingers met his in a ghost of reassurance.

“What did you see?” Caleb prodded. 

“Molly.” Fjord replied. “Molly’s gonna die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOLLY'S NOT GOING TO DIE MOLLY'S NOT GOING TO DIE MOLLY'S NOT GOING TO DIE MOLLY'S NOT GOING TO DIE just thought it was necessary to put that in here, he's not going to die. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. Fjord's dream said so, but I'm in charge here and he's not going to die. I promise.


	9. Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In-N-Out, naps, Tracy, and fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOO boy do I love angst. I looooove seeing these losers suffer. I'm dropping another chapter a day after my last to say sorry for being missing half of the week. Again, this one is less action, more drama. I hope you enjoy it! Also, I'm from Georgia, so I know exactly jack shit about In-N-Out, just that people from California lose their fucking minds if you've never had it. And I'm not just saying that as a stereotype, I've had actual people from California lose their shit because I've never had it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy Beau being unable to flirt and Molly and Caleb pushing each other further apart 25k words into this fic. Did I mention this is a slowburn? It's the slowest of burns.

Molly didn’t bother Fjord to know more about his dream. It wasn’t something that he was comfortable with when he had a bad one, so he didn’t want to push Fjord in any capacity. Molly sat next to Beau as Caleb and Fjord talked in the other room and thought about death. Molly hadn’t really given it much thought in the limited time that he’d had. He’d stared it in the face a few times, but it had always blinked first. He’d pulled his way out of graves and hospital beds. He’d championed over death a few times and the certainty in Fjord’s voice when he said it sent shivers over Molly’s spine. He was the kind of person who lived every day to the very best of his ability. He tried to fill up his life with experiences and happiness to contrast the pain and confusion that had clouded his first few months. Molly had lived more in his two years than some people lived in eighty. He never gave death a second thought. Not when he could be thinking about bigger and brighter things.

“You’re not gonna die, man,” Beau said. She rubbed his shoulder shortly. He nodded and inspected her knuckles.

“Those have got to hurt.” He pointed at her fists.

“Nah, you’re just a pussy.” She spat back. Molly smiled and flicked her off. She returned the gesture. Yasha, Jester, and Caduceus found their way back into the house. Caduceus noticed Caleb and Fjord’s absence and went to join their discussion.

“Hey, babes,” Molly said, “so according to Fjord’s weird hentai demon, I’m going to die.” Yasha furrowed her brow and crossed her arms.

“Well, you’re not.” She said, determination seeping from her.

“I don’t know, Yash,” Molly said, “I mean, he’s the all-knowing demon.”

“You’re not going to die,” Yasha said. Her tone was final. Jester sat down next to Molly and Yasha sat on the arm of the couch next to Beau. Beauregard leaned back and crossed her arms, tucking her fists beneath her biceps to make them bigger. She always tried to seem bigger and badder when Yasha was around. It made Molly giggle. Beau shot him a glance and Molly winked in response.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’d die for a burger right now. What do you girls say to an In-N-Out run?” Beau thanked him with a look. Jester linked her arm in Molly’s and laid her head on his shoulder.

“I’m tired.” She whined out.

“Me and Yasha can go.” Beau blurted out too quickly. Molly patted her knee. Easy, tiger.

“What’s In and Out?” Nott emerged from the back hallway. Jester’s eyes grew wide.

“You’ve never had In-N-Out?” She practically screamed. Molly smiled widely. He reached over to his jacket and retrieved his wallet.

“Get one of everything on the menu.” He told Yasha. “And I’m dying for the largest Dr. Pepper they can legally give me.” Beau went to poke her head into the other room and tell the boys where they were going. Yasha ran her hand through Molly’s hair and kissed his forehead.

“You’re not going to die.” She said against his skin. Molly smiled. Beau came back with the keys to Fjord’s van.

The sun rose slowly over the Blooming Grove Graveyard for the Penniless and Lost and Mollymauk hadn’t slept. Caduceus offered his furniture and bed and Molly took him up on that. He and Jester curled up on the couch together sometime after sunrise and drifted off to each other’s steady breathing.

___

_Lucien was seventeen and he was hiding in his bedroom. Not hiding, really, just avoiding. He had never, ever dreamed of coming out to his father, and now that it had happened on his behalf, he was adamant on not exploring it at all. His father was not exactly homophobic, but Lucien had never thought of trying to explain to him that “hey dad, I’m into girls, don’t worry, but I’m also a little bit into guys.” He shuddered at the thought._

_His dad was a military man, fifty years in the army. His mother was a navy nurse. Lucien grew up on twelve different military bases. He was born in Florida and he was seven in Japan and he was seventeen in West Virginia. His family was very black and white. Lucien didn’t think that his dad would mind too much if he was just gay or just straight. He didn’t think his dad would be upset if it were simple. Why couldn’t he just make it simple? Why couldn’t he just be simple?_

_Lucien would have been very happy to just ignore the whole thing and get married to whomever he chose a few years after his father died._

_He just made the mistake of telling his mother. His mother would, of course, tell his father. Lucien thought himself so fucking smart, but then he went and did stupid things like that._

_Lucien ironed his clothes for tomorrow and buried his nose in a textbook. Lucien adored textbooks. They were so much easier to grasp than fiction. Everything in real life had rules. They had a natural order that they followed. Lucien was so interested in that order and the exceptions that defied them. Because every rule had exceptions._

_There was a knock on his bedroom door. Lucien sighed and closed his book._

_“We don’t lock doors in this house, Lucy.” His father’s voice cut through the wood. He stood and unlocked it, standing to the side to let his father in._

_He took a seat on the bed as his father sat at his desk. Lucien sighed and hung his head._

_“I love you, son.” His father said. He sounded somewhere between indecisive and angry. “And I can’t believe that you would think this would stop it.” Lucien felt tears creeping into his eyes and fought to keep them from falling. “I can’t believe that you don’t trust me.”_

_“It’s not that, sir,” Lucien said. He popped his knuckles one by one. “It’s just...” He fought to find the words. “It’s just something that I’ve had a hard time figuring out myself, and it’s scary to say it to anybody. Even myself.” His dad nodded and fiddled with the wedding ring on his left hand._

_“I’m not angry with you.” His father said._

_“I know, Dad,” Lucien replied. “It’s just supposed to be my thing. I’m supposed to get to decide who knows and when. And I just wanted you to know when I wanted you to know.”_

_“And when would that be?”_

_“I don’t know!” Lucien got close to yelling, and then remembered himself. He cleared his throat and started again. “I don't know. But still, I should have been able to tell you when I wanted to.” His father nodded and stood. He bent down and cupped Lucien’s face in his hands._

_“We’ll just pretend that I don’t know, then.” He said. Lucien’s tears finally fell. His father pressed a kiss to his forehead and closed the door behind him._

__

Mollymauk woke without screaming this time. Jester was laying on his chest and there was a horn honking outside. Molly gently coaxed Jester out of sleep in the way that one had to if they didn’t want to get hit. The sun was beaming clearly in through the windows.

Beauregard shouldered the front door open with an arm full of greasy bags.

“Up, lazy shits!” She shouted. “We have so much food!” Jester sprung from her seat and went to meet Yasha outside.

They spread the feast out on Caduceus’ living room floor. He made a pot of coffee and Jester took it upon herself to hand out the best menu items to fit everyone’s tastes. Caduceus took one bite of the burger that he’d been given and politely set it down among the wrappers. He sipped happily on his lemonade as watched the others. Caleb practically engulfed his chili fries and, after some hesitation, Nott ate about half of a burger that was bigger than her. Fjord was familiar with the menu and took what he pleased. Molly nursed a Dr. Pepper bigger than his head.

“So we saw this poor girl,” Beau was saying, “And hey, we’re gay, not heartless, so we thought, ‘better go save this lost little straight.’” She stopped to laugh. “So Yasha and Jester flank from the left and I come in on the right and I take my hair down and unbutton my shirt and try and look like someone who likes dick.” Yasha laughed a bit. “So Yasha and Jester extract her and Molly’s waiting at the door with coats and water so we can sober up before we stumble home, and I just, I don’t know, turn into a straight girl? I put on this voice and I was like ‘Oh my god, hiiii, you’re like, soo hot. My name is Tracy, will you buy me a drink?” Fjord and Caleb busted out laughing. Caduceus looked like he was confused but enjoying himself. Molly and Jester were laughing so hard they were crying. “I felt so dirty.” Beau said. “I took three showers after it. God, who the fuck is Tracy? Where did she come from?”

The afternoon had settled in kindly and the eight of them lounged around for the rest of it. They ate so much that the felt disgusting and they washed away the blood and sweat clinging to them. At some point, Molly and Caleb ended up on the couch next to each other, sipped watered down sodas from too big cups.

“I wasn’t telling you the truth earlier.” Caleb said after several moments of comfortable silence. “About my childhood.”

“Oh?” Molly asked. He tied his hair up on a lazy bun.

“Not the whole truth.” Caleb said. Molly turned so that he was facing Caleb fully, open. “I edited it a little.”

“We all do that, I think.” Molly said. Caleb nodded.

“I edited it a lot.” Caleb said. “It doesn’t seem fair that I would hide things when you have to be so open.”

“Caleb,” Molly said, “I have no rights to your past. You can share or withhold whatever you like. It’s not mine to know. And you can tell me anything you’d like, I promise you I won’t judge, but in the same vein, you can keep that to yourself.” Caleb blew out a breath from his nose.

“I don’t think you can promise not to judge until you’ve heard it,” Caleb said.

“You’re a good person, Caleb,” Molly said. Caleb laughed like a maniac. He tossed his head back and let the laugh ring around the room. Molly didn’t join him.

“No, Mollymauk,” Caleb said, catching his breath, “I am not. I am not a good person.”

“You’re helping me, and I’m sure that you know that I don’t have enough money to cover whatever you usually charge. You’ve seen my apartment. You’re doing this, putting yourself in danger and through pain out of the goodness of your heart.” Molly said. Worry crept into his tone.

“You do not understand,” Caleb said. He cut his body away from Molly.

“Then explain it to me,” Molly said. “I don't like the way that you treat yourself, Caleb and if you’re so sure that I don’t understand, stop treating me like I’m stupid and explain it!” Molly was getting close to yelling. He remembered himself and lowered his tone. Caleb leaned forward and put his face in his hands.

“The Catholic exorcist I told you about,” Caleb said from his hands, “he didn’t just break my magic. He broke me.” Molly shook his head. Loose curls tickled his face. “And I’m going to tell you the story of how I murdered my mother and father.”

“No, Caleb,” Molly said, his chest tight with tears, “you don’t have to tell me, it's okay.”

Caleb kept going as though Molly hadn’t spoken.

“Ikathon helped me control my magic when I was young and as I grew older, I was sent to attend the Catholic boarding school that he taught at. Ikathon trained me in my magic. He was gifted as well, and he saw my potential and trained me along with two others from my hometown, Audwlf and Astrid. We were powerful and proud and brainwashed. He spent those years that we were under his thumb brainwashing us.” Caleb blinked several times to fight away tears. Molly wanted to comfort him, but remembered how Caleb had pulled away last time. He wrapped his arms around himself instead. “We were taught that those without magic weren’t worth our time. We became arrogant and self-assured. We were always sent home during winter holidays and one year, I overheard my parents talking about Ikathon. About how he was an evil man and that I should be removed from my school at the end of the year. I reported back to Ikathon as did Astrid and Audwolf with similar stories. He told us that the devil had a hold of our parents and the only way to save their souls would be to-” he cut himself off with a shaky sigh. “-to kill them.”

Tears were streaming down Molly’s face. His knees were pulled to his chest. He was horrified.

“It, of course, made perfect sense.” Caleb continued. Molly shook his head back and forth, unable to do anything else. “We would have done anything that he told us to. I wouldn’t know that that memory, them spreading lies about Ikathon, was fake until it was much too late. We went home together at the end of term. We went together to Audwolf’s house. His parents made us tea and he stabbed them both in the back. We broke bread with Astrid’s parents and she poisoned their food. We went to my parent’s home after dark and I set the house on fire. I listened to them scream as they died-” he broke himself off with a sob, “-I was so sure.” he said. “I was so sure until I wasn’t. I broke. I tried to save them and when Ikathon found out about my betrayal, he broke me. My parents were good people, Mollymauk. I am not good people. I am the scum of the earth and your affections belong elsewhere.”

Mollymauk stood from his place on the couch and left Caleb to cry alone.


	10. Dangerous Liaisons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demon lessons, holy water, extra rooms, sunflowers, awkward hugs, and genuine threats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Ohhhh, my lord, I don't know why but this chapter gave me trouble. Hopefully, I'll have another one for you guys before the end of the week. Up until next Tuesday will be a little hectic for me and I will be out of town and away from a computer on Tuesday, so I'll make sure to have the chapter posted early. I hope you guys have a great rest of the week! 
> 
> As always, if you want to ask questions about the story or just come and chat with me, you can find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess. I'd love to hear from you guys!

Yasha could tell that he was upset, but Molly made a point of not telling her why. He didn’t want to expose Caleb’s dirty past to the entire group, and he knew that as soon as Yasha knew that Caleb was a genuine threat to other people, she would either put him down or pull all of them out. Her tendency towards overreaction stemmed from her security training and her overwhelming love of the people she held dear. Molly didn’t see the purpose of burdening her with this. Still, she saw his red-rimming and water-logged eyes as he came out of his thirty-minute stay in the bathroom, and still, she interrogated him, and still, he blamed it on the stress.   

 

They had all decided that the best course of action was to attack this thing on their home turf. If they had the upper hand of location, it would give them push they needed. Caleb was adamant that the lich was less of a problem than the demon that powered it.

 

“If Nonagon is out of LA,” Caleb muttered, eyes avoiding Molly entirely, “the lich itself won’t be a problem for the Mighty Nein.”

 

“The Mighty Nein?” Jester asked.

 

“There’s only four of you,” Beau said.

 

“It-” Fjord smiled a bit fondly, “it’s supposed to be ironic.” Caduceus nodded.

  
“Nein means ‘no’ in German,” Caleb said. “Our group has almost always been made up of assholes, so we thought it made sense to be essentially called ‘the Big No.’” Beau cracked a smile.

 

“Yeah, I think I’m the first non-asshole associated with you guys.” Caduceus chimed in. Nott half-heartedly punched his knee, about as high as she could reach.

 

“So, to the shop, I guess.” Fjord lugged the duffle bag up on his shoulder.

 

“To the shop,” Caleb said.

 

Molly and Yasha linked arms as they walked down the rocky path together again. Molly sighed and studied his shoes.

 

“You can get new ones,” Yasha said to him.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Molly said.

 

They loaded into Fjord’s white van that still smelled distantly of fried food. Molly took a seat next to Yasha and then slid over to make room for Beau between them. He had decided that perhaps he could help her out. He was all for solidarity, after all, and he really just did love to watch her try.

 

Caleb sat in the passenger seat next to Fjord as Nott stood between them, clutching the armrests to stay balanced. Molly sighed and rested his head on Beau’s shoulder and worked his hand into Jester’s. He didn’t know quite what to do about Caleb. On one hand, Molly tended to be too forgiving when someone was emotional. He wanted very desperately to comfort Caleb when he had opened himself up like that. He wanted to wrap him up in his arms and kiss all of the tears away from those big, bright, blue eyes. But Molly didn’t always know what to do in matters of morals. He only had two years on him, so he didn’t really have the time to develop strong moral standings. He had good instincts, but when it came to the nitty-gritty of right and wrong, he was sometimes a bit color blind to the shades of grey. The fact that he wanted to forgive and forget that Caleb had murdered his parents so that he could become some sort of emotional support scared Molly. He didn’t understand why he was so easy to forget something as horrific as that. He didn’t know what that said about him and what he had done. Did he have skeletons in his closet that he needed forgiving for? Had he done something just as bad?

 

Jester rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb and Yasha wrapped her arm around Beau’s shoulder to gently rub his back. Caduceus smiled at them from his place sitting cross-legged across from them.

 

“You guys are such a good family.” He said. His eyes twinkled with something bittersweet.

 

“Thank you!” Jester squealed. She wrapped herself around Molly and kissed his cheek. “You guys are kind of a family too.” Caduceus smiled and ducked his head.

 

“We care about each other, that’s for sure,” he said, “but I haven’t had a family around for a long time. Not since I left Home.” Something about the way that he said ‘home’ just sounded capitalized.

 

“Well, you can be part of our family, Duce,” Jester said. He smiled and the interior of the van glowed a bit with pink.

 

They pulled up to the curb in front of Modern Literature. Caleb unlocked the door for everybody and led them all back to the very back room. Molly had been right. Yasha had to turn sideways to make it through some of the narrower sections.

 

Molly jumped up on to one of the desks as Caleb went about making preparations. Jester and Yasha moved everything out of the center of the room. Caleb stopped by Molly’s desk to look through some papers. Molly got the distinct impression that he didn’t really need anything from that pile.

 

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked Molly under his breath.

 

“Yes,” Molly said. He picked at one of his acrylic nails that was coming loose anyway. “Are _you_ okay?” He asked.

 

“I am not any more okay or not okay than I was before,” Caleb said. Molly thought that maybe he didn’t know how to explain how he felt with someone else knowing. “Did you tell anyone?” Caleb’s voice already sounded hurt.

 

“Of course not,” Molly said. Caleb’s eyes flicked up and landed on Molly’s lips, as though watching the words come out of his mouth would work past his tendency to distrust. “That’s not my thing to tell people. I wouldn’t do that to anybody, especially not someone who is helping me.” The corners of Caleb’s mouth twitched up.

 

“So now you understand,” Caleb said. He shuffled the papers so that they sat cleanly in a nice pile instead of being spread out across the table.

 

“I mean,” Molly started, “I understand that you went through a lot of trauma and someone in a position of power over you made you do something that, by all accounts, you didn’t want to do. I understand that you did something bad. I understand that trauma isn’t and shouldn’t be an excuse for doing bad things. And I understand that you should be held accountable for your actions.” Caleb nodded. “But I also understand that nobody should torture themselves. And I understand that everybody deserves second chances, amnesia or no. And I understand that I am, by all accounts, two-years-old, and I have literally no common sense.” Caleb laughed in that dry, genuine way.

 

“I’m not sure I agree with you,” Caleb said through a smile.

 

“Well, you don’t have to,” Molly said. “That doesn’t make it any less true.” Caleb turned and leaned back against the desk next to Molly. “And another thing,” Molly said, “you don’t decide where my affections lie. So I’m sorry to say, but you’re stuck with me in whatever capacity you’d like me.”

 

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Caleb said. Molly could see him blushing through the corner of his eye.

 

“You decide, Mr. Caleb.” Mollymauk teased. There was that laugh again. Molly loved that laugh.

 

Caleb spent about thirty minutes drawing a complicated pentagram on the metal floor. Fjord lifted Nott up on one of the desks and the two of them gave a kind of seminar.

 

“Here’s what you do in case of demon possession.” Nott was shouting at the top of her lungs as Jester, Molly, Beau, and Yasha sat in front of her. Molly and Jester were drawing dicks on the notepads that they had been given. Beau had taken to writing obscene notes on her papers, balling them up, and chucking them at Caleb across the room. Yasha was dutifully taking notes. “Literally nothing. You cannot beat a demon, they are vicious and terrible and your weak little minds can’t handle them.”

 

“However,” Fjord cut in, “there’s no need to worry about that, because if we’ve got some protections in place for y'all.” He indicated their necklaces. “First of all, keep those on, because they’re going to help. They won’t stop a demon, but it’ll hurt going in.” Beau snorted.

 

“Secondly, you’re each going to drink a bottle of this.” Nott pointed to the stack of water bottles that were on the desk next to her, wrapped up in Catholic beads. “It’s just water and won’t burn when you swallow it at all.” Fjord raised his hands to try and calm her down.

 

“It’s holy water,” he said, “and, yeah, it kind of will.” Fjord tossed a bottle to Beau. “It's just the nature of it. This stuff is divine and we’re assuming that y’all aren’t. It feels like a stiff drink, but gets you the opposite of drunk.”

 

“That’s really lame,” Jester said.

 

“It will make it harder for the demon to get to you, though.” Fjord said. “The last thing you’ve got to worry about is weapons. Beau, those wraps and braces should work on that thing. Molly, from what I saw, your swords use some radiant energy. I’ve seen bloodhunters fuck up a demon, so I think you should be fine. Yasha and Jester, your weapons will cause damage, but nowhere near as effective as magic. We’re gonna work on getting y’all something better suited.”

 

Once Nott and Fjord had finished their lesson, Caleb led the four of them through a door in the back of the domed room.

 

“This place was not this big when we first saw it.” Yasha noticed as they walked down another impossibly long hallway.

 

“Yeah, I hate to sound cliche, but it's definitely bigger on the inside,” Molly said. Caleb cracked a smile.

 

“I’m afraid that I don’t have rooms made specifically for all of you, but I have prepared rooms that you can stay the night in.” Caleb showed them all to four rooms with large, comfortable looking beds and tan walls. They looked distinctly like hotel rooms and Molly found himself full of the mixture of excitement and anxiety that always accompanied them. He never really could put his finger on why that was. Maybe he’d dream the answer up.

 

Beau followed him into his room. She gave Jester and Yasha a thumbs up as she closed the door behind her.

 

“Alright, asshole,” she said, “what’s up, why are you acting weird?” Molly stripped his jacket off of his shoulders and kicked off his shoes. Beau followed suit and left her flip flops in a pile by the door.

 

“First of all, since when have you been the emotional 911 operator?” Beau gently bumped his shoulder with her fist. “Second, the fucking demon would be a safe bet.”

 

“No, it’s not that,” Beau said. She flopped down on his bed, her arms spread wide. “You wouldn’t flip out over stress.”

 

“It’s really nothing,” Molly sat down beside her and rubbed his knee between his hands, “I had an interesting conversation with Caleb that shook me up a bit, but we resolved it.” Beau’s head shot up.

 

“Do I need to beat him up?” She wrapped her hand around Molly’s wrist. “I will beat the absolute shit out of him, Molly, he’s tiny I could kill him with my pinky.” Molly laughed and patted her hand.

 

“No, its fine, I handled it because I’m an adult.” He said.

 

“Molly, you’re like, two.” Beau poked his side.

 

“By all accounts, I am somewhere around thirty.” Molly retorted.

 

“You’re a baby!” Beau shouted. Molly stood and hauled her up and off of his bed.

 

“Out!” He said, laughing. “Get out of my room!” Beau got him in a headlock easily. He tapped out of her arm and the two were reduced to giggles.

 

“You’ve got to get her flowers,” Molly said after a few moments of catching their breathes. Beau quirked an eyebrow. “Yasha,” Molly explained. “She loves flowers. Something potted, maybe some sunflowers. She’s been wanted some.” Beau nodded and pulled out her phone to type ‘sunflowers,’ in her notes.

 

“Are you going to help me get with your best friend now?” Beau asked. Molly shrugged.

 

“Well,” he said, “I like Yasha, and I like you, and I think that you two would be good for each other. And I think that you both deserve to be happy.” Beau smiled and ducked her head.

 

“I don’t know about that, Molly, I’m kind of an asshole.” Beau popped her knuckles and inspected the bandaids that Jester had applied.

 

“Remember that you’re not supposed to call yourself that.” Molly started. Beau had recently started therapy, and though she hadn’t shared much about it, she had informed them that if they caught her calling herself an asshole, they should correct her. She had mumbled something about her self-esteem and awkwardly shuffled to her room. “And I think that everybody deserves to be happy, especially my girls.” He kissed the top of her head.

 

__

 

Mollymauk found Caleb sitting behind his great, oak desk, writing neatly in a large, leather-bound journal. He smiled tightly when Molly walked out into the office, bare feet cold against the metal floor.

 

“So, you’ve got extra rooms and a metal dome stuffed into your tiny shop,” Molly said. He found that he wasn’t very good at starting conversations, so he tended to start with some attempt to sound witty or sarcastic. Very often, he just sounded annoying. 

 

“It’s iron,” Caleb explained. “It’s pure, and impure things burn at its touch.” Molly giggled.

 

“I should be burning up then,” He muttered. Caleb laughed lightly under his breath.

  
“As for the rooms,” Caleb added, “there have been others who were part of our group who are not anymore. I can manifest more space, but not this low on magic.” Molly creased his brow.

 

“So what, they left?” He asked. “I can’t see why. Demon hunting seems like a charmed life.”

 

“Well,” Caleb muttered and scratched his stubble, “some of them left, _ja._ Some of them got tired of the life, as it were. And others did not choose to leave it.” Molly’s heart started beating a bit faster. “The people here, the Mighty Nein, we exorcize ghosts and kill demons. We are fighting a war with the unholy by unholy means. Often times, we get hurt. Sometimes we get hurt badly, and sometimes we die. It is the nature of things.” Molly shook his head and placed his hand on top of Caleb’s.

 

“I’m so sorry.” He said. Molly couldn’t explain it, exactly, but knowing that Caleb had lost so much in his life hurt him to his core. Somewhere in the fog, Molly had lost things too. He had lost _people_ too. Nobody in his last two years, but some time before all of it. He’d watched his friends die. Molly was once a soldier. Well, not Molly, Lucien. Lucien was a soldier, and so, he thought, was Caleb. He’d seen things his conscience wouldn’t let him forget.

 

Caleb didn’t pull away from his touch this time. He took Molly’s hand in his own and pressed a ghost of a kiss to his knuckles. Molly’s heart ached. He didn’t know when tears had jumped to his eyes.

 

“I know I rejected you not twelve hours ago,” Caleb said softly. Molly could hear the smile in his voice, “but it is very difficult not to like you.” Molly let out a huff of a laugh and blinked away the tears in his eyes.

 

“Ditto,” was all he could say. Caleb stood from his chair and encompassed Molly in a short, stiff hug. Molly breathed in his smell of paper and dirt and smoke. He felt the stubble on Caleb’s face tickle his neck, and he felt Caleb’s hands on the small of his back. He was careful not to touch Molly’s skin, tactfully avoiding the gap between Molly’s crop top and his jeans. Caleb had pulled back before Molly could get too endeared by the trepidation. It was awkward and a bit uncomfortable, and Caleb was too tense under his arms, but Molly felt good wrapped up with him. Caleb retreated a few steps back and ducked his head.

 

“My social anxiety is getting the better of me, I am going to bed, goodnight.” He said in one, big breath.

 

Molly laughed as he watched Caleb disappear into the back hallway. God, what was he supposed to do with that? What was he supposed to do?

 

There was a shuffling to his left and he turned to see Nott, leaning back against the desk and picking the dirt from under her nails with a small knife. His heart seized at how quickly she'd appeared, but not three days after meeting her, he was already getting used to her disappearing act. 

 

“I told you I’d break you if you hurt him.” She said softly.

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Molly said. He crossed his arms and sunk down to the ground, sitting next to her. She spun the knife between her too-long fingers. "I know that you two are close and that he takes care of you-”

 

“There’s a bit of a misconception here.” Nott interrupted him.

 

"I'm not sure what you mean," Molly said. Nott sighed picked at her teeth with the blade. Molly was scared that she'd cut her gums. She inspected the blade and Molly watched her cat-like eyes begin to shine with emotions, something between heart ache and anger. 

 

“Caleb and I have a very special relationship. It is that of a parent and a child. But I am the parent. You do understand that, correct? _I_ protect _him_. He’s _my_ boy. And _I_ keep _him_ safe. I want him to thrive and get better and better and more powerful and stronger. Because he can achieve great things. When I found him, he was nothing. He was a scared little boy in the corner of a jail cell. And as we have gotten-” she cut herself off with a long, labored sigh, “-more comfortable, he has gotten more comfortable and come out of his shell. It’s my job to protect him because I love him. I have plans to ruin the people who have hurt him, I plan to destroy their lives and everything that they love.” She turned her knife and pointed it at him. “Don’t make me add you to that list.” Molly tried to breathe deeply and work past the instinct to panic.

 

“If I ever hurt Caleb,” he said softly, “you have my permission to murder me.” A smile split Nott’s face in half, an open wound of too many teeth.

 

“I don’t need your permission.” Molly blinked and she was gone.

 

He hefted himself up from his spot on the floor and made his way back to his room, his heart still hammering in his chest. Molly had had trouble sleeping the past few nights, and he thought he might again since he’d just had a little goblin girl threaten his life. Even so, Molly was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	11. Crimson Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goats blood, guns, well-dressed strangers, lesser demons, and power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter to tied you guys over while I work on the next chapter. Thank you all for being so awesome about all of this. You're so great! I'm projecting about three more chapters and a very long epilogue. Enjoy!! As always, you can find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess.

_ It wasn’t that Lucien wanted to go into the military, and it was more that he had to. That’s not to say that he wasn’t extremely happy with his very nice salary and domestic position in West Virginia, but that’s also not to say that it’s exactly where he had seen himself being when he was in high school. Of course, Lucien had been an idealist then. He had developed much more realistic values for himself in the past six years. The military was part of that. It was the family business and he had no more choice in it than he did anything else in his life. Lucien expected that, in a few years time, their families would pressure Cree and himself to get married and they would comply. They were good soldiers, after all. They were excellent at taking orders.  _

 

_ Cree was a military brat like him. Her father was marines and her mother was air force. She had done what was asked of her when she turned eighteen. She shaved her head, bulked up, and joined the navy. For now, they were both stationed in West Virginia. He wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up doing a few tours in Iraq before they were discharged and given military benefits for the rest of their lives, packed in content friendship with two kids to carry on the tradition. They’d discussed the possibility before. It wasn’t what either of them wanted, not really, but it was what they were willing to do.  _

 

_ Lucien wanted to marry Benjamin Pierce, or Jessie Taylor, or Tess Tyler, but he had expectations to meet.  _

 

_ This was Lucien’s problem, he supposed. He wasn’t in control. From the moment he was born, he belonged to someone else. Even adulthood, which was meant to bring him the freedom he had chased in the form of lipstick-stained boys and too-thin girls under school bleachers for his entire high school career, was a disappointment. He moved out of his parent’s house which was a step in the right direction, but he was still in the same town, in the same state, on the same street, on the same base. It was like breaking out of his prison cell only to find an impossibly tall barbed wire fence that he somehow hadn’t seen before.  _

 

_ He wanted to be a scientist, once. He wanted to teach chemistry to high school kids. To show them what colors different chemicals burned and how to make smores on a bunsen burner and how to breathe fire with only a blow torch and a mouthful of cornstarch.  _

 

_ He kept his chin up and marched on. He might have been a good little soldier most days out of the week, but not tonight. Tonight he was going to dance with the devil just like Jack Nicholson told him to. Tonight he was wild.  _

 

_ Cree approached the spot where two trails met and dug a circle in the packed dirt with the toe of her boot. Lucien balanced on her shoulder as he drew in a pentagram. He placed a candle on each point.  _

 

_ “So,” Cree said after a moment’s silence. “We’re doing this.” _

 

_ “Yeah,” Lucien replied. He rubbed the back of his neck. It was a dangerous decision to make, not to mention the fact that he was dragging Cree along with him. Of course, if he did this by himself and survived to tell her, Cree would kill him herself. Besides, he didn’t think he could go through this on his own. Cree was there for him when he was wracked with nightmares of the hellish kind. She was there for him when his skin bubbled and burned into dark, red marks in the shapes of eyes. She was there for him when the priest he begged for help tossed him out of the church as soon as he saw Lucien’s marks. Lucien wouldn’t have been able to do this without her. “We’re doing this.”  _

 

_ Cree nodded and wrinkled her brow in the small way that she did when she was worried. She didn’t take his hand or rest her hand on his shoulder or reach out to comfort him in some way, and he didn’t know why, but part of him felt lost at that. He was lacking something from Cree, something essential. He just wanted her to wrap her arms around him and kiss his hair and  keep him safe, because  _ that’s what Yasha did when he- 

 

_ Cree. Cree wasn’t a tactile person and neither was Lucien. Their affection for each other was shown in knowing looks and sarcasm so well hidden behind well meaning tones and strong eye contact, they might as well have been sharing a secret language nobody else could quite parse. Where had that come from?  _

 

_ Lucien took the goats blood out of his backpack and sprinkled it over the center of the pentagram. Cree took out the Latin text that they’d spent two weeks searching for on eBay and handed it to Lucien. He took his time and annunciated his words carefully, making sure that every word was just right. He couldn’t afford any error. The incantation was long, it took him several minutes to get his mouth around. When he hit the final sylable, he suckin in a breath of cold air. He held it. Nothing happened.  _

 

_ He counted to twenty in his head. Still nothing. Cree shifted on her feet, about to say something. Wind tousled his hair. Suddenly, silently, something was in front of him.  _

 

_ A man. Tall, thin. Black suit, black tie. Shiny shoes. Attractive. Good looking in an artificial, air brushed way. Like an advertisement. Like Lucien was being made to think he was handsome, not like he actually was. The man smiled. His canine teeth were sharp and white. Lucien worried for a moment that they could cut through his neck.  _

 

_ “Well, well,” the man said. His voice was like caramel; just a bit too sweet. “Lucien. I was expecting you forever ago. What took you so long?” He had dark eyes that didn’t give a thing away. Lucien watched for his tell.  _

 

_ “What is your name, demon?” Lucien made his voice sound demanding. It was the voice he used when he talked to cadets. The voice he used to give orders. The man laughed. It was pretty. It was fake, but it was pretty.  _

 

_ “What, so you can use it to kill me instead of just banishing me? No thank, cutie.” He shifted and admired the pentagram dug in the ground, the goats blood staining his shiny shoes. “And nice little trap. Of course, you know it won’t hold me for long.”  _

 

_ “Of course.” Lucien said. His hand hovered over the gun strapped to his thigh.  _

 

_ “Of course.” The demon smiled. “And when it breaks, I’ll skin you to replace the shoes you’ve ruined.” Lucien didn’t react. Cree drew her gun and trained it on the thing’s back. He didn’t turn to look at her, but Lucien began to smell bacon and hear a crackling. Cree bit down on a scream and dropped her gun.  _

 

_ “I’ve got some questions, in the meantime.” Lucien said calmly. He wanted to meet Cree’s eye to make sure she was okay, but he didn’t want to give them away. He didn’t want this thing to know he cared for her. He didn’t want her to be used against him. “So humor me, if you’re just going to kill me anyway.”  _

 

_ “I said skin, not kill.” The thing cut in. Lucien kept going. He revealed the back of his hand, the red spot sitting there. The demon’s right hand twitched. There was his tell. “So, you’re a chosen.” It muttered.  _

 

_ “A chosen?” Lucien’s voice was steady but his heart was hammering in his chest.  _

 

_ “Some greater demon’s pet.” The thing moved to the edge of the circle to get a better look. “We try to stay out of their business.” He squinted as he took in the mark. “Ooh, yeah, no skinning for you today. Your friend maybe, but I’m not getting on his shit list.”  _

 

_ “Who’s?” Lucien asked. The demon met his eye and smiled again.  _

 

_ “Nonagon.” He said. The name changed the air, like the atmosphere knew that it was something putride to the tongue. He tried not to let the silence stretch.  _

 

_ “What do you mean by pet?”  _

 

_ “Someone in your bloodline made a deal with a demon.” The thing said, stepping back again. He checked his nails to hide his tick. “Maybe it was the mega millions, maybe it was for a date, maybe it was for a few extra inches below the belt. Whatever it was they got, you’re payment.”  _

 

_ “What does this entail?”  _

 

_ Cree had bent to pick her gun back up. Lucien thought that maybe it was less that the demon didn’t notice, and more that he let it happen.  _

 

_ “Oh, you are burning up with magic.” The thing grinned. “Can’t you feel it? You’re practically exploding.” Lucien gripped his hand around his gun. The demon rolled his eyes and flicked his fingers out at Lucien.  _

 

_ He was on fire. No, he was exploding. No, both. His skin was falling off and his nerves were burning up. He was dying. He was dying. He was dead, dead, dead.  _

 

_ And then he met the dirt and he was not dead. His skin was still raw and his mind still stung, but he was alive. He was more than that. There was energy, crackling, electric underneath his skin. He was alive, he was alive, and he was  _ powerful. 

 

_ He stood slowly. Cree had her pointed at the man’s back the man had holes in his chest. Sighed, snapped his fingers, and Cree collapsed in a heap.  _

 

_ “You’re what,” the demon sniffed the air, “23? You’ve got ten years, then you’re relegated to the demons. Once you’re down there, you’ll have a few hundred years in the torture chambers and you’ll pop out a fresh servant for Nonagon. Right now, you’re somewhere in between. You can use that energy you’re feeling right now to move things, destroy things. The stuff you saw in  _ Carrie,  _ bassically. You’ve got basic power over lesser demons and weakness to religious shit. Get your kicks in now, kid. You’ve got a hell of a time ahead.”  _

 

_ Lucien’s skin glowed and his heart hammered in his chest and he thought, for a moment, that he had an idea forming. Lesser demons, he said.  _

 

_ “You’ve been very helpful.” Lucien said. He stretched his fingers, kept up his poker face, and thought about the Wicked Witch of the West.  _

 

_ The demon melted, just like he wanted.  _

 

_ ___ _

 

Molly woke up on fire. He woke up exploding. He woke up dead, dead, dead. He woke up alive. 

 

He woke up powerful. 


	12. At Dawn, We Plan!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best laid plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya boi is back!!! So here's some fun news, my computer charger is broken, so I'm posting this on my last bit of battery power! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I'm hoping that I can post regularly over the next week, but no promises, my computer time is in limited supply right now and I know that this will be lower quality if I post from my phone and I do not want that. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy! As always, you can find me on tumblr at gayshitiguess. Come ask me some questions about this story! I love spewing about it!

Mollymauk had considered not telling anybody about his dream. He had considered keeping it to himself and not freak out and just let it all pass so that they could deal with this and he didn’t get in the way. Of course, he could have done that if he hadn’t thrown himself into a panic attack. 

 

After the magic had fizzled out and left him feeling cold and empty and burning, burning, burning; after he’d fought past nausea and got air into his lungs again, after he had run his hands over every inch of his skin to try and find where the magic had gone hadn’t found it; he started to fall apart. Panic attacks weren’t necessarily his thing, but he did have his triggers. It was the smell of hospitals that got him, not the needles or the nurses or scalpel digging into his skin. It was the feeling of being trapped in a small, dark place that threw him into hyperventilation. Panic attacks weren’t something that he dealt with often, but when he did, he was very good at calming himself down in time to retreat or fix the problem. 

 

No such luck this time. He was already losing himself when he finally met the floor. He’d been floating, he realized. He’d been flying three feet off of the floor. He had been lifted up by this magical force that he couldn’t and didn’t care to name. He could still feel the magic crawling around underneath his skin. He could feel it trying to dig its way out of his pores. Molly scratched at his skin with his broken and bleeding nails and tried to claw his way back to the surface. 

 

He was trying to get to Yasha’s room but he’d forgotten which she was in. He just stumbled to the closest one and knocked with shaking hands. He was slipping, slipping, falling away from himself and he needed Yasha. He needed her to hold him for a moment because he was  _ scared.  _

 

God, Molly had never been so scared. He had never been this viscerally terrified in his life. Not when he was digging himself out of his grave, not when he was locked inside of his own mind in that hospital bed. Not when he was slicing through monsters or staring a demon in its cold, terrifying face. Right there, standing half-naked and panicking in the hallways of the only place that he was actually safe, his carefully constructed self was undone. 

 

He didn’t know that he was crying or screaming or shaking or not really breathing because he was somewhere else, somewhere locked inside. He could barely see the door open, barely feel soft, warm hands wrap around his arm and lead him instead, barely feel himself gently pushed down to the bed. He barely felt fingers running through his hair and the ghost of humming and comforting words. He was lost. He was missing. Not inside of himself anymore. He was somewhere else. He was somewhere cold and quiet and dark. Not claustrophobic, not too tight or 

 

Molly took much longer than he usually did to crawl back to the surface. He was underwater and he didn’t know how to swim. He could hear and feel things through the water, but he couldn’t quite reach them. Not really. Eventually, a dark hand wrapped around him and pulled him back up for air. 

 

He found himself with his head laid on Jester’s lap, his face wet, his body tired, and Jester above him, humming softly and fighting not to cry as she brushed through his hair with her fingers. He screwed his eyebrows together and tried to get his bearings. He wanted to talk, to let Jester know that he was back and that he was okay, but he couldn’t get his voice out of his chest. Even if he could, he was afraid that he’d just say ‘empty.’ 

 

He stayed there, curled up in Jester’s lap, a bit awkward, mostly tired. He didn’t have to energy to explain himself to her. He didn’t have enough of himself left to get up and go back to his own bed or to ask for Yasha. He just let himself drift off with Jester’s unrefined but beautiful voice to keep him company. 

 

When Molly woke up again, he was warm. Very warm, too warm. He could feel sweat slicking his body and matting his hair. He was under blankets, large and soft. He felt Yasha’s arms wrapped around him, He could hear her heart hammering in her chest where his ear was pressed. Despite how hot he was, he leaned into her. He could hear Beauregard’s distinct snores somewhere to his right. He turned only to make sure that she and Jester were there, that they were real and safe. Beau had an arm slung around Jester, who was curled to Molly’s other side. He was just so fond. 

 

Molly was trapped and unlikely to weasel his way out without waking them, so he laid back, pressed a kiss to Jester’s head, and waited for morning. 

 

Nott woke them up a few hours later, screaming into the room, panicked because the first three she had checked were empty. Jester had seemed to adopt Nott in the few days that they’d known each other. Jester’s forgiving and kind nature was good for Nott, who seemed to require plenty of forgiving. Molly feared the power they might wield together. 

 

Molly was slow to rise, even having been awake for a few hours. Yasha stuck close to him, never more than a foot away. Jester must have told her. Molly wasn’t exactly sure why, but he felt somewhat betrayed by that. He knew that he would have done the same thing if Jester had been in his position and he knew that he had meant to go to Yasha in the first place, but even so. Mollymauk couldn’t help but be embarrassed when he was in that kind of state. He knew that it wasn’t anywhere near his fault and that it was natural that he would react that way. He just didn’t like to feel so lost. He really didn’t like dissociation. It made him feel like the him that he’d spent so much time building was falling away. It made him feel lost. 

 

Yasha had tried desperately to get him to talk about it, but he had simply refused to. He didn’t want to address it. And yes, that wasn’t healthy, and yes, he encouraged others to do the exact opposite, but he couldn’t help it. It was like there was a brick wall in his head that didn’t let him talk about it. Molly could talk about his pain, his trauma, he could talk about a lot of things, but not the times that he wasn’t Molly. That was simply off limits. 

 

Caduceus had made a breakfast large enough that Caleb had to make another table to accommodate. Molly watched as he did it, watched the gold turn one of his desks into a large, beautiful dining table. That set off one of the bells in Molly’s mind, that tickle of something he couldn’t wrap his head around. Sitting around an oak table, eating a huge meal, with people that he loved. It made him happy. It sent a shiver up his spine. 

 

Beau was surprised that Caduceus wasn’t a vegetarian. Caduceus spent about three minutes thinking about it in complete silence before he interrupted Fjord and Caleb’s debate about how to cook eggs properly, to say; “Have you spent much time in nature, Ms. Beau? Carnivores are very natural.” 

 

Caleb finished his food quickly, and he retreated back to his iron room to work. Molly followed as nonchalantly as he could, which turned out was not very. Caleb sat at his grand desk and waited for Molly to approach, large, circular glasses on his nose, papers in hand, but unread. Molly stole himself for a moment before he drew up a chair and sat across the desk from Caleb. 

 

“I had another dream,” Molly said. “And this one was weird.” Caleb balanced his glasses on the tip of his nose. 

 

“Weirder than everything else having to do with your situation?” He was trying to a joke and Molly smiled as best he could. 

 

“Yeah, weirder.” He fiddled with the rings on his fingers nervously. “I was talking to a demon.” Caleb’s blue eyes bulged a bit as he stared at Molly’s tattoos. 

 

“A demon?” He repeated. His voice was an octave higher than it usually was. 

 

“A lesser demon, I think.” 

 

Caleb took off his glasses and puffed out his cheeks with a big sigh. “What did it say?” 

 

“It said that Lucien was a chosen.” If Caleb’s eyes were big before, then they were absolutely popping now. His big blue eyes were working, flicking back and forth through the air as though he were reading something. There was recognition in Caleb’s eyes. There was a sudden answer to all of the questions floating around Caleb’s head labeled ‘Mollymauk.’ 

 

Caleb shot out of his chair and weaved around the room to get to a shelf. He stood on his tiptoes and straightened his back to reach a tome close to the top. It wasn’t ancient, it wasn’t leather bound. It was a black, sleek thing that showed signs of aging around the frayed and used corners. He flipped through the first half of the book quickly before he got to the page he was looking for. He read it quickly and snapped the book shut. 

 

“Yes!” He yelled. “That makes sense!” He grabbed the closest yellow legal pad and pen and started scrawling notes. “That explains the demon’s focus on you, it has a claim on your soul, you didn’t pass through my shields unscathed and your swords! Of course, you would be able to use a bloodhunter’s weapon! Your magic must be building up inside of you! It’s been dormant for two years, you’ve got to be bursting!” Caleb moved across the room like a bolt and took Molly’s hands in his. He rubbed them together as gold began to leak from his own. 

 

“Magic?” Molly asked. “Magic! Magic, Caleb I woke up and I kind of... exploded?” For the first time, Caleb’s blue eyes met his, intense and burning. The gold around his hands melted away into pixie dust. 

 

“You expelled magic?” Caleb said carefully. Molly nodded. Caleb’s eyes retreated and Molly chased his gaze. “You expelled magic...” Caleb looked like he was thinking again, his eyes flicking back and forth as he searched for some answer. He didn’t find one this time. “Fjord!” He called into the hallway. He turned around to his desk and kept scrawling messily on his notepad. Fjord poked his head in a few minutes later. 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Fjord, your demon knows where you are when you expel magic, correct?” 

 

Fjord furrowed his brow and stepped properly into the room. 

 

“Yeah, why?” 

 

Caleb waved his hand as though to shoo him away. He spent a few minutes pouring over notes, muttering to himself, and almost getting the right answer before he noticed something and went back to the drawing board. Fjord crossed his arms and waited patiently for Caleb’s conclusion. He straightened up without that look of recognition on his face. 

 

“Mollymauk is a Chosen,” Caleb said. Sucked in a breath and brought a hand to Molly’s shoulder in shock. He seemed to evaluate the evidence himself.

 

“The shields...” Fjord whispered as he withdrew his hand. Caleb nodded and tossed the book to Fjord. He flipped through and read the page that Caleb had marked. “Christ...” Fjord breathed. Caleb nodded. 

 

“Can somebody please tell me what’s happening?” Molly finally said. Caleb sighed and turned back to his notes. Fjord put down the book and placed his hand on Molly’s shoulder again. 

 

“You were chosen by a demon. Someone in your bloodline-”

 

“Yeah, someone in my bloodline made a deal with Nonagon or whatever, Caleb,” Molly moved forward to get his attention, “you need to stop talking about me like I’m not here. I can help, but I need to understand. Take a second and fucking explain this to me.” Molly was tired of being treated like a petri dish while Caleb and Fjord experimented on him. Caleb blinked and looked startled for a moment before he set his pen aside. 

 

“We have only a few hours before Nonagon finds you,” Caleb said. “We need to prepare for that as we have not already. I had hoped for more time, but with your magic, we can no longer delay. I had hoped to save seconds by not laying it all out, but it appears I have just confused the situation. I apologize.” Molly took a few seconds to consider what Caleb had said and locked it into his mind. 

 

“So what can I do?” Molly said. Caleb looked up at him strangely.    
  
“What do you mean?” Caleb’s voice was low and confused. 

 

“What can I do to help?”

 

“Run,” Caleb said, his eyes cast downward. “Now that we know what you are, you need to run. Take your girls, take Nott, and never come back here again. If Nonagon gets his hands on you it will be disastrous. We cannot give him that power.” Molly furrowed his brow. 

 

“Run and leave you here to be eaten alive? Are you fucking insane?” 

 

The word seemed to hurt Caleb. He flinched away from it. 

 

“Yes.” He said. “Go.” Molly’s heart began to hammer in his chest. He couldn’t figure out if it was anger or fear. 

 

“No.” Molly put his hands down on Caleb’s desk. “I’m not doing that.” 

 

“There’s no need to be brave, Mollymauk.” 

 

“I’m not being brave, but I’m not abandoning someone-” Molly couldn't quite find the word for Caleb. His first instinct was to say that he loved him, but Molly had only known him for a handful of days and he wasn’t even sure if he  _ liked  _ Caleb. He had to  _ like  _ someone to  _ love  _ someone, right? He stumbled over his words awkwardly. “-someone-someone who has helped me a lot. I’m not letting you die for me, Caleb.” 

 

“I do not die for you, Mollymauk.” Caleb’s words held malice but his tone couldn’t muster it. His eyes were sad. “I die for the city and the state and the world. You are powerful and a demon given a vessel to carry out its will on the world, especially a vessel as powerful as you, could end life as we know it.” 

 

“Don’t play martyr on me, Caleb, you know that that line of thinking is bullshit.” 

 

Caleb didn’t retort. His eyes met Fjord’s for a second before they retreated to his chin, waiting for some kind of help. Fjord offered none. 

 

“He’s right.” Fjord said. “You know he’s right. Stop being an asshole and get on with it. We’ve got shit to do.” Caleb sighed and nodded. He pulled his hair out of his face and tied it into a sloppy bun. Molly followed suit. 

 

Caleb spent thirty minutes with a tome over his knee as he drew golden sigils in the air. Molly watched, wrapping his fingers in tape the way that Beau had taught him over and over again. The first time they were too tight, then they were too loose, and then he missed a finger, and then... Molly seemed to be distracted. He watched as Caleb began to float a bit above the ground. His eyes shined a bit, gleaned over with a shimmer. He was something else, some ethereal being that Molly both couldn’t wrap his head around, and understood in such a fundamental way. Yasha and Jester went searching for magical weapons that could put a dent in the demon. Jester came back with an ax twice the size of her torso that she ran around with for a little while. Nott chased after her excitedly and begged her to spar. Caleb took a break from whatever he was casting to confiscate their weapons until they needed them. Yasha found a large sword, longer than Molly’s whole form, which she swung twice, to test the grip, and then strapped to her back. She eventually took the tape from Molly’s hands and did it herself. It was perfect, of course. 

 

“Are you okay?” She asked, softly. 

 

“No,” Molly replied. He didn’t like to lie to Yasha. She could always tell and even though she rarely got mad at him, he always felt bad about it. He hated the way that her face twisted up when she knew he’d lied. She knew too well what it could do to someone, to hide away the things that hurt. She never made him feel guilty, but she didn’t need to. 

 

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked. 

 

“If I don’t die,” Molly replied. Her face twisted up. 

 

“You’re not going to die.” Her tone was firm, absolute, no room for argument. An order, maybe. Maybe a promise. He couldn’t discern. 

 

Caleb gathered everybody into the center of the room, set them around the pentagram. 

 

“We must attack precisely,” he said, “no room for failure. Fjord will be at the front of its attention, keeping it occupied. Yasha, Jester, you will be on either side, getting in as many blows as you can. Beau if behind, trying to knock it down when it doesn’t expect. Molly, Nott, Caduceus and I will keep our distance. We can’t afford it getting its hands on Molly and the three of us work better when we are from afar.” Something bugged Molly about being kept to the side, but he understood the advantageous nature of it. He didn’t like the girls being up front and personal with the thing. They could handle their own, certainly, but Molly still felt wrong being coddled while they were on the front lines. 

 

They all got into position, laying in an almost silent wait. Molly felt a strange combination of nervous excitement and mortal terror coursing through his veins. He was practically buzzing next to Caduceus. 

 

He must have noticed because Caduceus reached a hand out and rested it on Molly’s shoulder. Warm calm spread over Molly like butter. He felt his air back in his lungs and the bees in his chest quiet as they were smoked into docility. Caduceus smiled a soft, warm smile at him. 

 

With his nerves gone, Molly felt his mind focus. He had a job to do. He had something to gather up all of his chaotic thoughts and return them to his head. He could focus his energy. He sent every good vibration he had in him over to Caduceus. 

  
  


It was a good plan, he told himself. It was a really, really good plan.

 

Somewhere, in the back of his head, some experience that he couldn’t name or place whispered; _the best laid plans..._


	13. Found and Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall to ruins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the last chapter!! Its about twice as long as my chapters usually are, so there's that. I've got a lot to get into this time. I promise you guys that I've got a nice epilogue under way that I'll post in the next few days. Again, my computer capabilities are limited right now, so it'll be sometime this weekend. I promise you that the epilogue will be gentle. This chapter most definitely wasn't. If you want, you can come and chat with me over at gayshitiguess on tumblr to scream about it. I would really love some questions about the series and my interpretation of the characters. I'm really proud of this story and I would love to scream about it with you. Thank you so much for reading! Enjoy!!!

Caleb stepped up to the pentagram, the toes of his fancy brown shoes so close to his neatly painted white line that Molly worried that he’d smudge it. Caleb took a deep breathe, filled up his lungs, and let the air leak out of him slowly. Molly watched his back methodically, waiting for the moment that he was run through or disintegrated by a demon. With his sweaters missing, Molly could see the slight muscles hidden under Caleb’s layers. He wasn’t a tower of strength like Yasha, but he was fit. Molly thought for a moment about the fact that Caleb would have stayed behind and done this alone. Caleb had been prepared to summon a demon from the circles of hell and face it by himself all so that his friends could be safe. All so that  _ Molly _ could be safe. 

 

His heart hurt a bit in his chest. 

 

Molly felt Caduceus’ hand meet his shoulder again and that familiar surge of energy run through him. He patted Caduceus’ hand with his own and hoped that he sent some of that energy back to him. Molly drew his swords and sliced through the back of his forearms. Blood coated the blades and through the dark, they began to shine. 

 

Caleb started glowing gold under his shirt. Molly watched the magic shift down from his torso into his hands. He kept the gold where it was for a moment, holding it back with the muscles in his forearms. He looked to Fjord to his left, Yasha a head of him, Beau and Jester to his right. They all nodded in return. 

 

“Molly?” Caleb called over his shoulder, not looking away from his magic. Molly looked over to Caduceus and left a little hand pat his knee. 

 

“We’re good.” He called back. Caleb released his magic, like an archer releases an arrow. 

 

It spread through the pentagram like molasses, filling in the ground and making the sigils shine. Caleb was muttering under his breathe, something in that language that Molly couldn’t wrap his head around. He moved his hands, manipulated his magic like taffy. It was all on Caleb until the thing actually showed up. Molly couldn’t do anything but watch. Watch the way that Caleb moved with and around his magic, like it was one of his limbs, like another leg. Not something that he shot out of himself after a nightmare. Molly watched as twisted around him like water, like fire, like air. He watched as the points where it connected with Caleb’s fingers shined bright enough that he couldn’t really see it, like the center of a light bulb. He watched as the magic slowly drained Caleb of his strength. He gradually didn’t fill his shirt completely. His posture shrunk, his movements became sluggish. Molly was shot back to the moment that Caleb had cast his first spell on him. His heart ached that much more. 

 

Caleb finished his spell and almost toppled over. Fjord caught his arm and held him upright while Caleb found his footing. The room was silent. Nobody moved, nobody breathed. Molly collected the energy from Caduceus’ spell inside of him until he was ready to burst. 

 

“Smoke poured off of the pentagram where Caleb’s magic lay. There was nothing for a very, very long moment until the smoke seemed to hit something. The form of a man, a tall one, a broad one. The smoke floated away to show a man in a black suit, adjusting his tie. No demon’s smile was on his face. No clever word or sharp tongue. Just a pale man in a dark suit, passing his blank eyes over their group.

 

He looked empty, that man, somewhat dangerous. He looked like a predator, something that could snatch Molly up and snap him in half in a second, but he also looked like a bored predator. Something that was eating but only because it had nothing better to do. There was something disturbingly human about him. Those blank, cold eyes passed over Molly, and they stopped. 

 

“ _ You...”  _ it grunted. Like air through holy flesh. Something in Molly shook. 

 

He was terrified. 

 

The thing seemed to have smelled it on him. He kept Molly’s eye as he began to change. He bulged out of his skin, like it was too small a container for the guts inside. All at once, he burst. Out of his pale skin and dark suit crawled something abominable. It was a bulbous, gigantic thing made up of blood covered, infected blue skin. It looked putrid and sick. It was tall enough that it could have touched the ceiling if it lifted up its giant, club-like hand. In one hand, it held a huge, nasty looking glave. The air was permeated by the stench of the unburied. Molly’s stomach turned. 

 

Caleb retreated as Fjord and the girls started their assault on the thing. A few of their attacks made it through, but its skin was much thicker than it looked. Fjord’s blade would cut through, but only the first few layers of fat. A few of Nott’s arrows embedded into its chest. It all seemed to be trivial to the thing. Its blank eyes were still locked on Molly. 

 

Caleb ran into him, a mass of arms and legs and too-warm skin. Molly collected him up in his arms as best he could while keeping him clear of his swords. Caleb looked bad to say the least. His cheeks were sunken and his blue eyes were wild with something primal in them. Molly ran his thumb in little circled over Caleb’s spine. 

 

“This is not what I expected.” Caleb said over the sound of Jester’s battle cries. 

 

“Yeah, a bit less smoky, a bit more eldritch abomination.” Molly called back. Caleb balanced himself on Molly’s shoulder as he shot off a ball of fire from the center of his hand. He winced as the magic left him. 

 

“Keep your distance.” Caleb instructed. Molly nodded. 

 

Of course, he did the exact opposite as soon as he saw the thing take a swipe at Yasha. He couldn’t help it. He had magical energy building up inside of him and all of a sudden, he was next to her, slicing into the things arm to try and keep it at bay. 

 

It was like trying to fight a cube of jello. They could carve and carve and carve away all they liked, but it never made a difference. It never made a fucking difference. Molly felt like he spent hours just swinging wildly, almost always cutting through something, but never anything substantial. Yasha yelled out to him as she was knocked about three feet back. Caduceus pulled Fjord away from the fight to keep all of his blood in him. Beau had beyond broken her hands just trying to leave a dent in the thing. Jester was raging, swinging back and forth fruitlessly. He was beginning to panic. 

 

And all the while, it's attention was on Molly. All the while, it just repeated; “ _ You...”  _

 

Mollymauk watched as his friends were knocked down, one by one, over and over again by this overpowered video game boss in a loin cloth, and he expected himself to panic for just a moment. Recently, though, Molly had been surprising himself. He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t afraid of this thing. He was pissed. He was so angry. He’d never felt his blood boil like this before. He’d never felt such a burning in his chest. The thing struck out and caught Caleb in the chest with it's huge arm, sending him flying into a desk with a terrible crack, and all at once, something inside of Molly snapped. He was screaming before he even thought up what he was going to say. 

 

“Do it!” He screamed. “Do it, you fucking coward! Cut me down! Your puny soul can’t muster the kind of dread that has been weighing on me, so do your worst! It won’t change anything! You can’t kill me in a way that matters!” 

 

The thing smiled an ugly, rotten smile and swung.

 

The glaive cut through Mollymauk’s skin and into his rib cage, collapsing bone and lung tissue and tearing a rift into him. Molly tried to take in a breath, but there was blood filling in the empty spaces of his body. Alarms started blaring in his head, not enough air, not enough blood, too much damage. His hand came up to rest on the long weapon inside of him and he felt himself slipping away, little by little. That was a startling and familiar sensation. This creature had sunk its teeth into him before, and he felt everything falling away from him. Memories really did flash before his eyes. Beauregard, beaten to shit, her right eye almost swollen shut, but smiling as she told him about the epic battles she fought. He was cleaning a cut on her face one moment, and then the next, that memory was gone, and with it, Beau. Jester, painting his nails a deep, blood red. Blood, blood, blood. She was saying something to him, big, kissable lips quirking around the corners as she chewed on her every word. Something about a potential boyfriend. ‘ _ I mean, you’ve got to like someone to love them, right?’  _ She said, and Molly remembered suddenly where that phrase had stuck in his mind and then she fell to pieces around him. Yasha, laid out on a plaid blanket, staring up at the sky, somewhere in Kansas. There were circus tents behind her, dark and unlived in. She extended her hand to him, and his almost met it before she was gone too. His girls, slipping away from him. His girls, no longer his because he wasn’t even really his own anymore. Bright, blue eyes tearing into him. He heard a sound somewhere through the haze. A scream tearing through the air. His eyes, lazy in their movements, found one blue, one, startling purple. She was holding her great, heavy sword, its tip meeting the ground as she sagged under her own weight. She kept screaming, her voice tearing from her body in a horrible fashion. Thunder sounded from outside of the big, metal room, and for just a moment, he swore he saw wings. 

 

Molly wanted to say something, to remind her to breathe, to tell her that she’d be okay, to tell her that he loved her. That she was his soulmate too, and that even though the blade in his chest felt like a gavel coming down on wood, he would find her again. They were not bound by the permanence of the universe, and that nothing would keep him from her. Oh god, when was the last time he told her that? Did she know that he loved her? Oh god, he had to tell her, she had to know that he loved her he had to tell her he had to tell her he had 

 

The blade moved and with it Molly’s attention. It twisted in his gut and sent Molly’s thoughts to a standstill. Very suddenly, the only thing in Molly’s mind was the ugly face of the monster in front of him, and that card, Death, in his future. Death, getting closer and closer to his present. 

 

Heat rushed to his face. He wanted to say something but blood filled his throat, so he spit it in the face of Nonagon. The last thing that Molly saw was his terrible, rotten grin. 

 

And then he wasn’t Mollymauk or Lucien or anyone. And then he wasn’t anything at all. And then he was floating and floating and then he understood change in its purest form. And then he wrapped his mind around the abstract nature of Death. And then he understood what nothing meant. 

 

__

 

The very last thing that Lucien remembered seeing was Cree’s face as Nonagon dragged him into the ground. The very last thing that he remembered was the dirt rushing into his mouth and eyes and lungs. The last thing he remembered was the piercing feeling of concentrated cold break through his skin and into his body, where it leaked in and contaminated him. The taste of blood was on his tongue and something was sticking out of his chest and Lucien was alive. He was alive. 

 

Somehow. 

 

He sucked in a breathe that was mostly blood, wrapped his hands around the blade, and tore it from himself. It made a terrible, wet sucking sound as the glaive fought to stay inside of his body, but he tore it out anyway. He fell forward, where his hands met the hilts of his swords, abandoned on the metal ground. Where was he? He had been in West Virginia, in the woods, surrounded by earth, and now he was bleeding out on a floor made of iron. He was smoking, he found, steam rising from his skin. His magic, burning to get out him. It must have built up for a very long time, because it was itching and clawing at his skin to be released. Who was he to deny that? 

 

In one swift motion, Lucien forced his body to move, drew his swords up and across the skin of his stomach, and hurled himself at the creature. As his swords cut through, the rotten thing was tossed back several feet from his outpouring of power. He’d been still too long. His magic was knitting him back together, clearing his lungs of blood and making them work again. He grinned, power and strength bursting from him. 

 

“You fucked with me on a really bad day.” He spat at the creature. The thing reared towards him, gigantic weapon coming straight for his head, but he dodged, fast on his feet and he twisted his swords around and sliced through the thing’s side. “Where the fuck did you drop me, Lorenzo?” He called. 

 

The room seemed to freeze as he named the creature. It reared around it’s glaive and grinned with missing teeth. Lucien twirled his sword and caught sight of his hand for a moment. Huh. That tattoo wasn’t there before. He hated snakes. 

 

_ Focus.  _ He told himself. 

 

“ _ You...”  _ The thing croaked, like it's voice was made of wind. 

 

“Yes, yes, me.” Lucien said. “I know, I’m the Chosen One, the Demon Prince, whatever. I summoned for parlay.” The thing cocked its head and the glaive vanished. 

 

“ _ You...”  _ It’s voice quirked up. 

 

“What?” Lucien asked. “Was I not clear? I request parlay, so if you could drop me back in West Virginia with my associates, we can get down to business.” 

 

“Molly?” A voice called to his left. Lucien turned towards it out of shock rather than familiarity. A tall, handsome man with dark skin and a curved sword stood a few feet off of him, blood and sweat mingling on his brow.  _ Oh dear.  _ Lucien raised his eyebrows. “Molly, what the fuck?” He said, the hint of a fake southern accent on his tongue. Lucien hadn’t spent three years of his childhood stuck in Georgia not to know a real one from a cheap imitation. 

 

“Are you talking to me?” He asked, he gripped his swords tighter. His fingernails felt weird. Lucien saw the creature move out of his peripheral vision. He brought the tip of his glowing sword up and pressed it an inch into the thing’s fat. “Don’t you move, I’ve called parlay and you have no power here.” The thing grunted. 

 

“ _ You...”  _

 

“Oh my god, if you say that one more time I will end you. And I asked for Nonagon, not some middle grade henchman. Where’s your boss?” The thing roared at him and sprayed him with it's ghastly breath. Lucien had had enough. “Okay fuck this, then.” He turned his blade in his hand and drove it through the gut of the thing. It roared again and, in a flash on hellfire and sulfur, it was gone. 

 

“You killed Nonagon.” Lucien whipped around and met the beautiful eyes of a very tired looking man. 

 

“That wasn’t Nonagon, my friend.” He said. His head swam, and he leaned on one of his swords to find some sort of balance. “If that were Nonagon, you’d all be squashed and I’d be dragged to hell.” Something bright red and burning flashed in front of his eyes. He cried out and, in a moment, he was on the ground, clutching his head, his swords still clinking from their impact with the ground. There were several shouts of alarm around him, and suddenly Lucien realized how many people there were in this room. The air stunk of sulfur and blood, and Lucien’s head was pounding and his knee throbbed with an inexplicably familiar pain. That wasn’t right. None of this was right. His hair was too long. It brushed his shoulders, somewhere in the awkward stage of growing out, where the sides hadn’t caught up with the bottom. With his hands near his face he could see the tattoos more clearly, a snake head attached to a body that curled his right arm, roses, deep red that sprouted around his left. His fingernails were long and painted and bright in a way that he never wore but quietly admired. He had several rings adoring his fingers. 

 

Lucien was met with the distinct sensation of being a stranger in his own body. 

 

His head killed, but he got to his knees anyway. Fighting past his nausea and vertigo, Lucien collected his swords in his hands once again. They felt a bit foreign, and he realized that it was because the skin on his hands had softened. Where there had once been calluses and toughened spots from handling these swords, there was soft, well manicured and cared for skin. What had happened to him? What the fuck was going on? 

 

A big, strong hand landed on his shoulder and Lucien almost leaned into it, expecting Cree. That hand was familiar in a way that Cree was not. Cree was all business. She rarely comforted him through touch, but that hand fit well on his shoulder. It had made camp there before, touched him like that before. Lucien shivered when he realized that it wasn’t her.

 

It was a large woman, taller than Lucien, with dark hair that bled to white at the tips. She had a slash across her nose that bled steadily down her face and a large sword laying next to her on the metal ground. 

 

“Molly?” She said softly, hesitance and desperation hiding somewhere in her hesitant tone. He retreated from her touch, suddenly feeling very, very vulnerable and as though he shouldn't be touched. There was hurt in her eyes somewhere and Lucien’s instinct told him to protect, to comfort, to reassure. An instinct he’d never developed himself, but was there, inexplicably. Muscle memory. 

 

There was a low, hissing sound from somewhere in the room. Lucien put aside his pain and confusion for a moment as he tried to assess the situation. There was a pentagram in the middle of the room that was softly glowing with arcane energy, a group of people around him that he didn’t know but seemed to know him, and an apparent summoning of Nonagon, which was, to say the least, not fucking good. He spun his swords in his hands and tried to get used to them but still felt a little off. His knee throbbed, but he stood on it anyway and took a defensive position. 

 

The hissing coalesced into a high-pitched squeal that resembled a teapot. A memory of an electric kettle, a pink cup, a yellow house flashed through his mind and Lucien couldn’t place them. He shook his head to try and get rid of them, but his too-long hair fell into his face and he found himself in the very back of a loud club, locking lips with a person who he couldn’t really see but tasted like strawberries and vodka. There was a flash of pink light in front of him and he came blinking back into the world. 

 

A very tall person with a long, pink mohawk and a face that didn’t quite make sense but was still very pretty was looking at him, hand outstretched. His knee stopped hurting so badly. His head cleared. There was still a dull ache in his chest where his magic couldn’t heal him, but he felt clean and clear. He felt like the dust around his mind had been swept away. 

 

Smoke circled around the pentagram and bled out to his ankles. He blinked a few times and focused up. The smoke took form, a tall, slender figure that bent over him with a wild gash of a smile across its translucent face. 

 

“ _ You...”  _ It breathed out. 

 

“Nonagon, I called for parlay.” He said. He made himself seem as powerful as he could. “I have some information about our deal.” Nonagon cocked his head. 

 

“ _ Your time is up.”  _ It said. Lucien rolled his eyes. 

 

“Don’t fuck with me, demon, we both know I still have two more years.” The thing laughed a breathy, low laugh. 

 

“ _ Your time is up.”  _ It said again. Lucien didn’t pretend to understand. It didn’t matter. 

 

“Okay, so I’m out of time, whatever.” He spat. “I’ve got some news for you, you fucking hell spawn, I  _ know.”  _ Lucien watched as the gash smile retreated from it’s face. “That’s right. My father didn’t make a deal with him, you sent a henchman to possess him and coerce him into the deal. That doesn’t count, trust me, I check with half of the demons in your inner circle. Not only is your claim on me void, so is your claim on my father’s soul. So here’s what you’re going to do, first of all, you’re going to strike my name from all of your records, you’re going to release my soul from bondage, and just because you like me, you’ll leave all of the nice stuff, the ageless beauty, the magic, the healing. And you’re going to release my father’s soul. And none of that wandering spirit shit, you’re sending him on an express route somewhere real nice. And after you’ve done all of that, I might decide not to take your sorry ass to the highest courts of Hell. Do you agree to my terms?” 

 

The think flickered and growled as it assessed Lucien, looking for any sign or falter or fear. It didn’t find any. It lifted a large, skeleton finger and pressed it onto Lucien’s sternum. A great sense of cold washed over him, making his fingers numb and his body stand stock still. And then it retreated, leaving him too warm and loose. A weight was gone from his shoulders. 

 

Nonagon retreated to it's corner of Hell and Lucien collapsed. 

 

He had nothing left to give. He had no energy or fight. He had just put everything that he had into scaring a demon and it worked and he wasn’t fighting for his life and he could finally, finally rest. A vision of moonlight danced before his eyes as he hit the floor. Moonbeams dancing through a curtain to kiss his cheeks. A girl in blue all beaten up but smiling, a beautiful woman meticulously painting his nails, two eyes, one blue, one purple, staring back at him. A tarot card. Death. Death, riding His white horse to collect him. And then a name popped into his head. A name he liked the sound of because it was the name of the first girl he ever kissed; Molly. A name he like because it was an old sea chanty that his Navy buddies used to sing; Mollymauk. 

 

And then Lucien and Mollymauk weren’t exactly two different things. And then they somehow became one. Very messy, not exactly right, but one whole thing. 

 

His head hurt. His chest hurt. His cheek was pressed against the cool metal ground. Arms, big, warm, strong, Cree? Yasha. Yasha held him close to her chest and cried into his hair. Was his hair this long? Yes, he’d grown it out because he felt wrong in a body that he’d never owned, and this body, the way that it looked right then was right. But then again it wasn’t. Because he was a clean cut person, well groomed and never too bright because he wouldn’t want to draw too much attention. But no, that wasn’t quite right either because he was bright and loud and proud and nobody had ever been able to shut him up. He was loud and quiet, happy and sad, day and night, sun and moon, he was so many things all at once. He was fundamentally contradictory and he couldn’t untangle himself long enough to figure out what was right. He didn’t know. He didn’t know who he was all over again. 

 

“Molly please,” Yasha cried. “Please talk to me.” She sounded desperate. 

 

“Empty.” He replied, his voice choked on dry blood. Yasha sobbed at the word. 

 

Someone big and bright and- Caduceus was his name- kneeled before him and waved pink light all around. It was gentle and warm and eased the pain from his chest and his head and his him. He leaned into the warmth. 

 

“Empty.” He said. Yasha stroked his hair. “Empty.” 

 

He wasn’t empty. He had too much inside of him. The word was muscle memory, something he’d said so much when he was in pain that it became the label for his suffering. He had two lives, two people in his head trying to become one, to reconcile themselves with each other, and really, all he wanted was to be empty. To wipe the slate again. He hadn’t been Lucien in so long and if Mollymauk was tainted, then he might as well start over. He might as well try again. He might as well be empty. 

 

“Empty.” He said, not really so. 

 

“Empty.” He said, wishing that he was. 

 

“Empty.” He said, falling away from it all. 

 

__

 

“Mollymauk?” He heard somewhere to his left. “Molly can you hear me?” The voice was deep and careful and thick with a German accent that sounded like strong coffee and too-early mornings. 

 

Caleb Widogast; his mind supplied. Caleb Widogast from the little book shop on South Spring Street. Caleb Widogast, the scary beautiful magic man. Caleb Widogast, the most kissable person that he had never kissed. His eyes were slow to open. He eyelids were the great stone tablets stealing away ancient tombs, and he hadn’t seen light in so long. Fluorescent pierced his pupils. A hand rested tentatively on his head, brushed a curl out of his face. The had was cool, skinny, gentle. His eyes adjusted. 

 

Caleb Widogast, the most kissable man on Earth was leaning over him, brow screwed up with worry and beard several days thicker than he’d last seen it. Caleb looked tired, he though. A bit too skinny. Caleb saw the recognition in his eyes and straightened, embarrassed by the contact. 

 

“I-” he stumbled over his words, “-I will go find Yasha.” Caleb went to retreat, but his lazy arm looped around his, not coordinated enough to wrap fingers around his wrist. Caleb moved back, took his hand and wrapped their fingers together. He felt for a pulse even though it could be heard somewhere in the background, beeping along to their breathes. 

 

Something in Caleb’s big, blue eyes broke as he tried to find his words. His throat was so unused and dry that he couldn’t get them out. 

 

“It’s okay.” Caleb said, sinking to sit on the bed beside him. “I won’t leave.” He whispered. “I’ve got you.” The phrase hit him somewhere in his chest. He leaned into the warmth. “I’ve got you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See?? I said he wouldn't die! I never said that he wouldn't change, tho.


	14. Epilogue; the Chapter Closes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Star Wars, moving day, the Ace of Cups, West Virginia, repetitious kisses, and familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the ending, my loves!! Come talk to me about this story on my tumblr, gayshitiguess. I'd love to hear from you!!

The days and months that followed Nonagon’s attack on Modern Literature were difficult for him. For the first time in two years, he remembered everything. His childhood was still a little fuzzy, blurred around the edges, but it was there, mostly. He couldn’t recall details. He couldn’t find his parents’ names or their surname or their faces, but he remembered West Virginia. He remembered their stern but loving upbringing. It used to snow. He never liked the snow. It was too wet. Pretty from afar, messy up close. It was only natural that he would settle in a desert. He decided after a few weeks that he was still Mollymauk, and he decided that he could no longer ignore Lucien. He decided to keep his fingers painted and all of his rings and his bring red, terrible jacket. He decided that, even though the part of his life in which he was Lucien was over, it still happened, and he owed it to himself to at least acknowledge that. 

 

He was loud and proud Mollymauk Tealeaf, lady killer and tattooed man, but he was, somewhere in his chest, late at night, Lucien, straight laced, dangerously intelligent, necromantic soldier. 

 

Molly watched movies while he was confined to his (now demon free) apartment once he got out of the hospital. The ones he watched most were  _ Star Wars.  _ Molly was never much one for movies, before or after crawling out of a grave, but when he hadn’t the strength to do much else, it was something to distract him. 

 

He watched them the first time in release order per Fjord’s instructions. An interesting development he hadn’t expected; Fjord was a total nerd. He brought Molly a box set of the movies and a DVD player to hook up to his shitty desktop to watch. Molly was, of course, completely charmed by Carrie Fisher as princess Leia, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to marry her or be her. Once he got through the Phantom Menace, though, Molly was met with a particular challenge. 

 

How was he meant to reconcile Darth Vader with Anakin Skywalker? 

 

Darth Vader, for three straight movies, was clear cut. He was the bad guy. And then, the prequel movies caught him off guard. 

 

As an aside, the prequel trilogy was clearly a hot mess, and Molly did not like it. The camera work was uninspired, the script was clunky and unnatural, the acting was mediocre at best, and the CGI was overused and downright sinful. Ewen McGregor was cast perfectly for the role of Obi-Wan Kenobi, but even he made a few cardinal sins in the first movie. Molly was not fond at all of these movies. 

 

Even so, Molly suddenly had context for Darth Vader. He wasn't always the evil emo that haunted the galaxy. He was a child once, albeit an annoying one. He was a young man, a bold and brash kid who resembled his son that Molly so loved. He was a tortured soul that couldn't infer the difference between love and possession. He was a person. 

 

Everybody was something different to everybody else. Leia, to Molly was the brave and bold and intelligent leader of a desperate cause, and to million others, he discovered, she was just a gold bikini. Molly could easily consider himself Han Solo, but to somebody else, he might be that Kyle Lauren guy. 

 

The thing about Darth Vader, though, is that he wasn’t  just Darth Vader, he was Anakin. How did those two parts of himself sit inside of the same body? How did they coexist? How could he contain the multitudes that he did? 

 

How could Molly?

 

The answer, it turned out, was eventually. 

 

__ 

 

On a Sunday afternoon in late May, almost a year after their first meeting, Molly and the girls took a trip to Modern Literature. It certainly wasn’t the first of its kind. In fact, the four of them had found their way to Caleb and Nott’s doorstep many times since Nonagon. After his very long hospital stay, Moly had found himself stir crazy and reeling with internal conflict. Instead of wandering around LA with no destination in mind, he took to manning the desk at Modern Literature whenever he could. Caleb tried to pay him and Molly refused to take it. He had a suspicion that Caleb had been sneaking checks to Yasha, but he wasn’t going to call him out on it. Beau opened the door for all of them and the ringing of the bell sent that familiar nostalgic feeling up his spine. Except now, he could place it. It was the chime on the door of a cafe in Japan that Lucien- that  _ he _ frequented with his mother. The smell of books and ink hit him and Molly breathed it in happily. 

 

Fjord was at the desk, a copy of  _ The Hobbit  _ in hand. He smiled and waved at them as they all shuffled in. 

 

“Today’s the day, then?” Fjord still used the fake accent around them. Molly could place it now, the ways that it was wrong. He said pen with a soft ‘e,’ he said why with a soft ‘y.’ It could fool almost anybody who hadn’t been seeped in the accent. Unfortunately, Molly had been. 

 

“Today’s the day!” Jester had been so excited all week. She loved decorating, and moving was just an opportunity to completely make over Caleb’s entire shop. He had rebuffed her efforts for weeks, but he was finally starting to bend. She had ordered dozens of mahogany bookshelves to accommodate all of the books in his shop and home. Caleb, they had discovered, wasn’t a person who was fond of change, so to have not only four new people moving into their home, but to also have those four redecorating everything around them had been stressful. Molly had been able to calm him down with Caduceus’ and Nott’s help. Despite his worry, Caleb seemed excited to have them. Caleb liked to keep the people he cared about close. Having to send them all half way across town when their business was done was stressful. He’d much rather have them all at home base. 

 

Molly found his way back into Caleb’s workshop, his huge domed iron room, and was greeted with an unusual sight. The place was clean, immaculate, actually. There were eight desks set out neatly in rows of twos across the floor of the room. Bookshelves had been cleared off, and on four of the desks were name tags and skeleton keys. Molly approached the desk marked as his. A few things were already carefully placed on the surface, a Himalayan salt lamp, a set of ancient-looking tarot cards, a few crystals. In the center of the desk was the familiar manila folder where Caleb kept his notes on Molly’s case. He had read it before, reviewed what they knew. He’d started a file of his own, trying to find out more about his father and the rest of the family. He hadn’t found any blood relatives alive. He couldn’t even find Cree, who, he suspected, did what she did best when the water got hot; disappeared. 

 

The girls each had a similar set up, some small things that were reminiscent of them with enough space to actually decorate. Yasha, a small potted cactus, Beau, a signed picture of Muhammad Ali (she was freaking out over it, alternating between yelling Yasha’s ear off and just staring at it), Jester, a pencil holder full of lollipops. 

 

They’d long talked about the possibility of officially joining the Mighty Nien. It was an enticing concept, most definitely, but it was also a risky one. Molly had almost died the first time that they’d worked together, so Caleb was hesitant to put him back in the field. Molly agreed, and instead offered other services. He was a soldier. He knew that now. He knew that part of himself and he knew how to think like a soldier. Not only that, a commander. Molly was a strategist. He could be an adviser, a general, whatever Caleb needed, and only come in the field when they needed him. 

 

The girls were easy to convince. Beau wanted to start fights she actually got to win, Jester had  a taste for danger and adventure, and Yasha, as promised, would follow him anywhere. The logistics of it took some time to hash out, but the eight of them seemed to fit together nicely. Caleb emerged from the back hallway, looking a little thin and tired. Molly’s hand came to his shoulder, half in greeting, half in worry. Caleb’s hand patted his gently, reassuring. 

 

“I’m very glad you’re all here.” Caleb said. His voice was somewhere between excited and anxious. “We can bring in your boxes, yes?” They all unloaded the UHaul they’d rented to drive twenty minutes across town, and Caleb had them all set them in the center of a sigil circle, one person’s things at a time. With a muttering of some arcane words and a flash of golden magic, the boxes were gone. Molly wondered for a moment if he’d just put his few worldly possessions into a magical incinerator. 

 

“If you’ll take your keys,” Caleb waved his hand back to the hallway, “I’ve just finished making the final touches on your rooms.” Jester took Molly’s hand in hers as she dragged him down the hallway. Caleb led them past the four guest rooms that they had slept in the night before Nonagon arrived and down a slightly wider path. They past doors with little golden signs that read “ _ Caleb,” “Nott,” “Fjord,”  _ and  _ “Caduceus,”  _ before they came upon one that read “ _ Jester.”  _ She bounced up to the door and unlocked it. 

 

The room was painted cotton candy blue, with a four poster bed covered in what must have dozens of pillows on the far wall. Jester’s posters were hung on the walls in fine golden frames, her axes crossed beside the door for easy access. There was a large wardrobe painted white with golden accents that held all of her clothes. Caleb walked to a door that Molly had assumed was a closet and opened it. Jester walked in with wide eyes. They all followed. 

 

It was a painter’s workshop, he thought, large, spacious, with ceiling to floor windows that showed a landscape that was not LA. There was an ocean, white beaches, tall, waving palm trees. Tears sprung to Jester’s eyes. 

 

“Nicodranas...” She whispered. Caleb nodded. 

 

“A recreation.” He explained. “You described your mother’s home to me once, the workshop you had there. I thought you’d like one similar.” Jester nodded as she ran her fingers over the neatly lined up acrylic paints. There were too many to count. Endless paints, colored pencils, markers, paper, canvases, brushes, charcoals. Everything that Jester could have asked for. She launched herself at Caleb and wrapped her arms around his neck. He looked a bit alarmed for a moment, as Jester nearly tackled him, but eventually eased into it, placed his hands awkwardly on her back. 

 

Yasha’s room was across the hall from Jester’s. It was rather plain, light grey walls with a large window that let in a great deal of natural light. Her sword was hung on the wall and she had a small, brown desk and stacked on the shelf above it were all of her field journals, leather bound things that she filled every few months with notes on... well, Molly wasn’t quite sure, exactly. Flowers, he supposed. Maybe something else. On the desk was her current journal and a very nice, marbled fountain pen. Her bed was simple, covered in a white duvet. Caleb once again opened a door to the side, easily ignored if it wasn’t looked for. 

 

It was a green house, and a large one at that. All of Yasah’s plants and then some were set in rows based on genus and species. Yasha ran her fingers over the stems of the sunflowers that Beauregard had gotten her for her birthday, her eyes met Molly’s in disbelief. 

 

Beauregard’s room was covered on every wall with the posters of the fights that she’d won. Those were more and more common, these days, since she’d stopped letting herself play the heal. Molly was proud of her for that. Her bed was big, king sized, and when Molly took a seat on it, it was just a little too hard for his preference. Just the way that Beau liked it. Her clothes were hung on a clothing rack instead of in a wardrobe and her sneakers were lined up from newest to oldest. There was a brand new pair of white Nike's beside her bed. She went straight for the side room, knowing that the real surprise was there. She stopped short as she looked in to a large gym, a boxing ring in the center, and several punching bags hanging from the ceiling. It certainly wasn’t the nicest place. Molly could see the places where the bags were tapped and the ropes around the ring were wrapped in several layers of duct tape. It looked second rate in comparison to Jester’s studio and Yasha’s greenhouse. 

 

“How did you know about this place?” Beau’s voice couldn’t whether to be suspicious or grateful. She looked at Caleb like she was looking at a ghost. 

 

“You are a semi-public figure.” Caleb explained. “It isn’t difficult to find the gym where Under Toe Beau trained.” Beau huffed at the nickname and ran her fingers over the ropes of the ring like she was excavating something ancient and precious, something thousands of years old but somehow familiar to her. 

 

Molly’s room was across the hall from Beau’s. He was a bit nervous, if he were honest, to see what was inside. In the year that they had known each other, Caleb and Molly had gotten closer. Their initial spark hadn’t really gone anywhere, and Molly was actually relieved by that. Caleb wasn’t healthy enough for a relationship, but then, neither was Molly at the time. Molly had had plenty of flings, tons of two week love affairs, but they always fell to pieces. He hadn’t had much more luck before he chose the name Mollymauk either. After Nonagon, Molly found himself sheepish and shy at the idea of a real relationship. He could hardly explain why, perhaps the addition of his past showed him what shame felt like, but he couldn’t ever put his finger on it. Nevertheless, he had grown closer to Caleb. He cared for Caleb a great deal, in what way, he couldn’t exactly say. Just that he wanted to know Caleb, to know him in his totality, down to his every bruise and blemish. He’d never felt that way about anybody. 

 

Molly’s room was painted periwinkle, leaning more towards purple than blue, but not hard on the eyes. It was a soft color that, in combination with the soft lighting and red accents, eased Molly into a state of calm. His bed actually had a frame, but it was low to the floor and lifted his mattress up only a few feet. The bedding was his own, just repaired. The tears and stains sewed up and pulled away. New pillows lined the head. On the wall opposite his bed was a tall, beautifully made bookshelf, stacked full with all of his tarot cards. He ran his fingers over the face of them, picked up a deck, and pulled a card. 

 

The Ace of Cups. 

 

“Mollymauk,” Caleb said. His voice was gentle, as though he didn’t want to disturb Molly’s quiet awe. 

 

“Whatever’s in that room can’t possibly be better than this.” Molly said, half joking, half serious. Caleb smiled and ducked his head. 

 

“To be completely honest,” Caleb said, “for the life of me I couldn’t think of what to put in there. The girls were easy, I knew what they would like, but you are complicated, Mollymauk. So, I decided that I would let you chose.” Caleb opened the door to what looked like a white void. It was empty and vast and the sight of it scared Molly half to death. Caleb must have sensed his discomfort. “Here,” he offered his hand, “Step inside and think of some place you’d like to be. It’ll take you there.” 

 

Molly took Caleb’s hand. He was hesitant to say the least, but he did as he was told. He stepped into the room, his sneaker somehow meeting solid ground in the void, and, as much as he tried, the only place that he could think of was West Virginia. 

 

Midnight, deep in the woods of West Virginia, just inside of the gates of a large cemetery. Two soldiers, converged by an oak. Mollymauk and Caleb, their hands still linked together, fingers crushed and twisted in their desperate hold.. They stood, shifting in their too few layers, bouncing on their toes to try and fight off the cold. 

 

“Very  _ Star Trek.”  _ Molly whispered, his breathe puffing out of him like cigarette smoke. Caleb laughed a bit, turned around. Molly followed his gaze and was met with his doorway, opening through the large oak behind them. The girls were just outside the door. Jester’s eyes were huge. 

 

“It didn’t work!” She cried out. Caleb seemed to realize something as he offered his hand to her and helped her step inside. As she entered, Jester’s eyes tried to catch up to what she was seeing. “Holy  _ shit! _ ” She cried. Molly laughed as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms to keep her warm. 

 

“You can go anywhere you’d like with this.” Caleb said. He ran his fingers over the door frame. “Just think it and the room will accommodate.” Molly and Jester stepped out of the cold and back into his bedroom. His smile had never been wider. 

 

It was three months later when he finally asked Caleb on a date. Just a date, he’d said, not boyfriends, not a relationship, just a date. If it went poorly, they could forget that it ever happened and joke about it later. Caleb seemed as trepidatious as Molly felt, but he agreed. Molly wore an outfit that actually matched and brought Caleb to a hole in the wall empanada's place. 

 

It did go well. So did their second date. And their third. 

 

The first girl that Molly had ever kissed was named Mary Ringwell in the fifth grade. The first boy that he had kissed as named Jacob Goldfield in the boys locker room during freshman year gym. 

 

His favorite person to kiss was Caleb. 

 

Caleb kissed him in the back of the shop on a slow Monday afternoon. It was autumn and it still felt like summer. They’d been restocking the back shelves. Jester had made the shop considerably more navigable with her decor, and Molly had insisted on building up Caleb’s almost non existent fiction section. Lucien loved to read and Molly did not, so he found himself somewhere in between. It was something that he had to actively engage in, so not something that he could relax while doing. Even so, he’d found a love for fictional worlds that Lucien could never enjoy and Molly could never get his mind around. Those two halves of himself had eaten  _ Harry Potter  _ up in a month. To accommodate, Caleb made a point to always have new things for him to read if and when he chose to. 

 

They’d gotten a shipment of books in and Molly was stacking them by the twos onto the shelves with Caleb’s help. It was in that moment of quiet company, pressed close together and exchanging small jokes and quiet laughs, that Caleb’s hand made its way to the back of Molly’s neck. It was in that space between them that Molly’s fingers trailed along Caleb’s torso, a bit more full, a bit better fed. It was in that shared air that Caleb’s lips met Mollymauk’s. 

 

It was a shy kiss, that first one. It was something that neither of them was entirely sure of. It was something that they’d ghosted towards before but never, never done. It was something that had been in the back of Molly’s mind for as long as he’d known Caleb. Caleb’s lips were chapped and he tasted of saliva and stale coffee. Bright blue eyes were closed and the pad of his thumb was rough and calloused against the skin of Molly’s jaw. It was clumsy, like his first kiss. Like kissing Mary Ringwell in the fifth grade. Caleb’s lips only ghosted against his, a single moment of no space between them, before he retreated. 

 

Caleb’s eyes were cast down, his chin pressed to his chest, his hair hiding his face. Molly felt his heart seize at the sight. He hooked his finger under Caleb’s chin and lifted his face up. He didn’t force their eyes to meet, he didn’t say anything, he just let the tips of his fingers trail over Caleb’s cheek. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Caleb’s mouth, and then another, and then another. A smile broke out on Caleb’s face. He started meeting Mollymauk’s lips. 

 

“I’m okay.” Molly whispered against Caleb’s lips. 

 

“I know.” 

 

“You’re not going to ruin me.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

It was December and Molly was manning the desk with Nott. She was sitting below the counter, curled up by his feet as she carved out bolts for her crossbow. Little flecks of wood covered Molly’s pant leg. They were discussing the morals of dead bodies based in a strange case they’d had earlier that week. 

 

“It’s not a body if there’s no skin.” Nott squeaked. Molly rolled his eyes. 

 

“So, the skeleton isn’t a part of the body, then? Once you remove the things that make someone look human, they are no longer human?” Maybe that was a low blow on his part. Nott quieted down for a second. Molly was about to apologize when he felt something sharp stab his leg. Not enough to cause any actual damage, just enough to hurt. “Asshole!” he cried as he rubbed the sore spot. 

 

“You started it.” She muttered. They fell into a lull in their conversation. Nott resorted the one sentence started she had in regards to Mollymauk. “What was Lucien like?” Molly rolled his eyes again. He’d only shared the full extent of his knowledge on Lucien with Yasha to begin with and Caleb much later on. It wasn’t something that he necessarily enjoyed talking about. Beau and Jester marked the differences in him, his more frequent tendency towards anxiety, his more reserved nature, his tactical knowledge and boost in common sense. Nott, Fjord, Caduceus, and Caleb simply didn’t have anything to base the change off of. As far as they knew, Mollymauk had always been that loud and proud anxious guy who could simultaneously demand your attention as cast it away. 

 

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” Molly said. Nott tugged at his pant leg. 

 

“Come on...” She dragged the word out as long as she could. 

 

“What if he ate goblins? What if he was a goblin eater, do you really want me to tell you then?” Nott smacked his leg halfheartedly. 

 

“Don’t be gross!” She half-shrieked. Molly stifled a laugh at her reaction. 

 

The bell above the door rang as the first customer of the week walked in. Molly straightened up and shook Nott off of his leg. He balanced himself against the counter and stuck his head out past the bookshelves so that the customer could see him. 

 

“Hi, over here!” he called. “Welcome to Modern Literature. I’m right here if you need any help.” A few seconds later, a gentleman approached the desk. He was older, probably in his early seventies, with a bald circle on the top of his head and long, white hair pulled into a knot at the base of his skill. His face was long, sculptured, and sad-looking. His skin was just a bit too yellow to be healthy, a little too close to jaundice. His eyes were dark, sunken, dead. He wore a priest's collar. 

 

“Hello,” the man’s voice was thick with a German accent. Nott gripped tightly to Molly’s ankle, claws digging into his skin. “I would like to speak to Caleb Widogast.” He spit the name like it offended him. Something told Molly that this man was dangerous. Everything was quiet. He was frozen to his spot.  _ Predator,  _ his mind supplied. He was still in the presence of a predator. He wrapped his hand around the hilts of his swords underneath the counter. 

 

“He’s out right now.” Molly lied through his teeth. “I can take a message, if you’d like.” Molly knew that the man knew he was lying. The way that he looked at Molly, like he was just a appetizer on the way to the main course, like he could just eat him. It made something in Molly’s core shake. 

  
“Come now,  _ kippe.”  _ The man said. He spoke that word like a curse. “There is no need to lie. Go find Caleb and tell him that Trent Ikathon is waiting outside for him. I’m sure that he will be anxious to see me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought it was over. HA. 
> 
> You thought I was ending this shit here?? No way!! Did you enjoy this in depth look at Molly?? Good news, because I'm doing a story like this one for EVERY MEMBER OF THE MIGHTY NIEN!!! GET PUMPED!!! CALEB'S NEXT!!


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